


Wicked Game

by spiralepiphany



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Annie-Centric, F/F, F/M, Infidelity, Slow Burn, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-05-20 03:29:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 143,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14886785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiralepiphany/pseuds/spiralepiphany
Summary: She doesn’t know what exactly it is about Mikasa. Someone as passionless as her, with such empty eyes, who doesn’t even have enough pride in her skills that she’d hide it at someone else’s say so, surely someone like that doesn’t deserve her interest? Eren may be formless and lacks discipline, but in his eyes burns an uncontrollable passion. Like he’s bigger than his own body. That’s what’s attractive about him. Compared to him, Mikasa just pisses her off. She can’t place a finger on why. Mikasa just does.---In which Annie finds herself inexplicably drawn to Mikasa, the only problem being that Mikasa is her boyfriend's sister.





	1. I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this story came about four years ago when I first got into SnK. I never ended up writing it and sometime during the Uprising arc, I left the fandom due to other things drawing my interests. I just got back into SnK earlier this year and so I finally decided to write something for a much beloved series and probably one of my favorite pairings, Mikaani. The original idea is really just a smutfic, but now it has evolved into an overly long smut turned romance fic. Fair warning to those who find themselves here following the Ereani tag, the endgame ship here is Mikaani. Likewise fair warning to those here for Mikaani, there is a lot of Ereani to go through before the end. Also general warning for infidelity/cheating.
> 
> \--
> 
> Story and chapter title taken from the song Wicked Game by Chris Isaak. This song is one of a few songs that I listen to while writing this fic. I particularly enjoy the covers by The Coves, Daisy Gray, and Gemma Hayes.

Annie has known Eren three months before it comes out that he has an adopted sister. An older sister, but only by a month. He makes sure to stress that part. He mentions it briefly in conversation, and the mention is almost passing. She doesn’t mind, attributing it to a disinterest in talking about family, which she shares. But at this point of their relationship, where it feels like it could go further, the topic hangs overhead like a formality that needs to be overcome. So he talks. And she talks. Two weeks after that talk, he asks her out on a real date. Not coincidental dinners, or after hours drinks. But a relationship starting date. And she accepts.

She meets Mikasa for the first time a month into the relationship. It’s incredibly informal, Mikasa arriving as a post-date ride home after walking home plans are interrupted by sudden heavy rains. From his face, it’s obvious this isn’t how he plans to introduce them, if he plans to introduce them at all. But with no umbrella and no desire to brave through what must be stuffy public transports or musty taxis, he has no choice but to call for a free ride in what he knows is an impeccably clean car. And it is. Shiny jet black exterior with a spotless dust-free interior. That itself tells her more about Mikasa than Eren ever has.

Mikasa herself is civil, if unsociable. She greets Annie when she enters the car, pretends she doesn’t exist for the rest of the ride as she talks to Eren, and then bids her goodbye when Annie gets off. Not that Annie minds. If she gleans anything from that meeting and observing how she interacts with Eren, it’s that she and Mikasa are more similar than she imagines. That and the fact that Mikasa now knows the apartment building she lives in. She isn’t quite sure why she finds that particularity unsettling. But as she takes the stairs up to her unit, thinking about her schedule tomorrow, she puts it out of her mind.

The second time she meets Mikasa is mere days later, when Eren, clearly still dissatisfied with how the first meeting happened, invites her over for a dinner thing to properly introduce her to Mikasa and his childhood best friend, Armin. To make things fair and less awkward, or possibly more, she brings along her own childhood friends, Reiner and Bertholdt. It goes better than she expects, with Reiner being a great conversationalist driving all the conversations, while Armin expertly follows along on their side. It makes up for the quieter Bertholdt and Mikasa, and Annie finds herself enjoying the night quite a bit.

She ends up learning several things from the dinner. Firstly, that Armin and Mikasa are precious people to Eren. He doesn’t actually say so, but she sees it in the way he talks to them, the way they act and react to each other, the air of comfort and compatibility surrounding them. It’s something she sees in herself, Reiner, and Betholdt, although in a different sense. Then she puzzles over why, when they are so close, it is only now that Eren brings her to meet them? Why hasn’t she heard about them earlier? It’s almost as though Eren is keeping this part of his life separate from her. And then she realizes that that’s exactly it. Eren knows she’s a private person, so he’s making sure that a relationship with him is exactly that. A relationship with him, not including his family and friends. She finds herself immensely appreciative of that and when everyone else leaves after the dinner thing, she sticks around to show him that he too is in a relationship with her and her alone.

The second thing she learns is that Armin is someone that she can get along with, surprisingly. There is absolutely nothing he has in common with her, but yet she finds herself at ease with him, and not minding his companionship. It’s the kind of ease that lends itself well with get together lunches, or needing someone to kill time with. And it’s exactly on one of those get together lunches that she gets the answers for the third thing she learns that night. A query involving Mikasa. Seeing her directly and not from the backseat of a car, what stands out isn’t her exotic half-Asian looks, but the build of her body. Dressed in lighter, more casual clothes compared to the thick jacket she had before, and without the scarf at least during the dinner portion of the night, Annie notices it clear as day. And when she sees the way Mikasa moves, she knows it with a certainty afforded by experience.

That’s a fighter’s body. Just like her own. And she wonders, seriously wonders, why Eren hasn’t mentioned this before. Surely he knows that she would find that fact interesting, being a fighter herself. Fighting is pretty much the only thing she can say she’s passionate about. It’s a passion she shares with him. After all, she meets him in a boxing ring where she kicks his formless feet from underneath him and slams his body so hard into the ground he probably sees stars. They bond over fighting. One of their favorite date activities is to attend local matches. And they talk about it quite often too. Fighters. Techniques. So it boggles her why Mikasa is missing from the equation. There’s not even a passing mention.

She decides to ask, one time. “So your sister, Mikasa, what does she do?”

She asks because her fighter’s body comes with the job description as a fight instructor. A well maintained body like Mikasa’s must come from something similar.

“Mikasa?” he looks up, surprised. “Like her job? She’s a translator. Got a PhD in three or four languages, not too sure, so she does all sorts of translation. Textbooks, fiction, research papers, poetry, websites, you name it. On the side she does some private tutoring too for college level students.”

How terribly mundane, is her first thought. How terribly sedentary too. Not exactly jobs that should realistically lead to a great physical form. As for her third thought—

“PhD? Three or four?”

He flashes a tight smile. “She’s exceedingly talented. Could have done anything she wants to.”

“Oh? What else is she exceedingly good at?”

“Everything.”

Despite the praise, his smile doesn’t reach his eyes and his voice goes soft. She promptly skirts the topic. “I have a feeling she doesn’t like me.”

She senses it, during the dinner. Mikasa is subtle about it, very expertly subtle that Reiner and Bertholdt don’t notice, but she’s always been good at picking up these things. So she’s quite certain she isn’t wrong about the undercurrent of animosity beneath Mikasa’s courteous facade.

“What? No way. They like you just fine.”

He follows up by pulling her across a street they don’t need to cross and changing the subject. That, coupled with an unconvincing look of disbelief and the random lumping of Mikasa together with Armin clues her in to the fact that for some reason, this is a sore subject. She decides not to pry. At least not from him. Armin, however, opens up quite easily on their get together lunch. Of course, under the condition that she keeps it to herself.

“Ah, Mikasa? Well, she used to like Eren, back when they were younger,” Armin tells her while leaning back on the cafe chair sipping his fruit infused tea. “But even though they’re not related, Eren thinks of her more like family so it didn’t work out. She’s over it, but I guess she does feel a bit jealous, perhaps? The is the first serious relationship Eren’s been in, after all.”

Annie similarly sips her coffee, black with no sugar, as she considers Armin’s words. Jealousy checks out. It certainly explains Mikasa’s behavior towards her, but not Eren’s reaction towards the topic of Mikasa.

“Don’t worry about it, Annie. I’m sure that if you felt any animosity, it’s unintended. Mikasa just needs to sort out her own feelings. I can say for certain that she doesn’t like Eren in that way anymore.”

Not that she cares about that. Eren made his choice. Still, it is reassuring to know there won’t be issues on that front. However, that’s not the burning question on her mind. Placing her coffee down on the table, she asks. “I have another question about Mikasa.”

What Armin tells her has her side-eyeing Eren for a while. Because yes, Mikasa is a fighter. And yes, she is exceedingly good at it. And yes, that’s precisely why Eren hates to bring it up. Because she is better than him. Even Armin can only smile helplessly at her surprise, as though sharing her opinion on how strange that is. After all, the first thing Eren says after she floors him is to express awe at her technique. And then when she offers to teach him, he accepts with nothing but humility and eagerness. It’s hard to imagine that same person now feeling inferior, and being bothered by it. Unfortunately, he is oblivious to her side-eyeing, and as condition for Armin’s openness, she doesn’t bring it up.

Maybe if she doesn’t see Mikasa again, that would be the end of it. She’s curious, she wonders, but with an inability to ask, without anything to feed the flames of her curiosity, it’s only natural that it dies. But the formal introductions seems to have catalyzed something else in her relationship with Eren. Where before he keeps her separate from the other part of his life, now there is a clear overlap, if a small one. She goes over to his place more often and like clockwork, Mikasa is there too, every Sunday evening. And she stares at her like she’s the one intruding, and maybe she is, but that doesn’t mean she appreciates the snark.

“Ah, Annie. We always have dinner together every Sunday. It’s a tradition impressed upon us by Aunt Carla, Eren’s mom. You’re welcome to join us, if you want.”

It instantly raises her hackles how Mikasa’s voice drips with pretend courtesy. Eren calls out his agreement from where he’s seated on the couch, but she doesn’t answer him. Not immediately, because Mikasa is challenging her. She is challenging her to invade into their family tradition, banking on the assumption that she wouldn’t. And she really wouldn’t. Not normally. But here, now, she finds herself not wanting to back down. So she makes it a point to show up every Sunday evening and even though she’s not one for displays of affection in the presence of others, she also makes it a point to kiss Eren in Mikasa’s plain view. It’s satisfying at first, the startled look, the narrowed eyes, but after the second time Mikasa stops paying attention or turns away and then Annie begins to feel childish. But by then Eren seems to have been conditioned to expect a kiss, so she doesn’t stop. It won’t help the jealousy, but that’s not her problem. She’s no longer doing it out of spite. She just wants to kiss Eren. Thankfully, Armin shows up sometimes so Annie doesn’t feel like a complete intruder.

Still, petty taunting aside, and despite wanting to get along with Eren’s sister like she does his best friend, she can’t help but feel a more fundamental dislike for Mikasa. It’s a feeling she’s certain Mikasa shares about her. Even so, her opinion of Mikasa has no bearing on her curiosity about her, and the weekly meetings are exactly the fuel it needs to keep burning. And burn it does, finally spilling over when passing by Mikasa through the narrow kitchen doorway, she sees the flex of her shoulder blades and the muscles of her neck from her wide collared sweatshirt. A lucky chance, considering Mikasa always wears tops with long sleeves, almost like she wants to hide her form.

She takes the chance. “You’re well built.”

Mikasa looks up from her plate and gazes at her from across the table. Funnily enough, Eren’s fork stops moving too. “I work out.”

“Yeah,” Eren chimes in, eager, urgent. “You know, with that sedentary lifestyle of hers. She needs it to keep healthy and fit.”

Annie ignores Eren, keeping her attention directed at Mikasa. “Oh? What kind of work outs do you do?”

Eren cuts in again. “The usual. Cardio. Weights. Right, Mikasa?”

“Yeah.”

He makes a noisy mess of slicing his undoubtedly tender chicken breast, and then changes the subject. It bristles her, how he snubs Mikasa. It bristles her even more that Mikasa is unfazed, simply agreeing with him like he’s done this a thousand times. And it’s incredibly off putting to see his inferiority in action. If not for the fact that it will expose Armin as her mole, she would have called him out for it. Because that is not acceptable. But Mikasa goes along with his conversation change easily and when Eren pulls her back in she finds herself simply swept along.

That night when she pushes Eren down onto his bed and he yields to her willingly, a smile on his face and lust blazing in his eyes as she straddles him, she doesn’t know what to make of it. She bites his ear.

“I’m always kicking your ass,” she breathes. “Does it bother you?”

“No way,” he counters, hands finding her waist. “You’re amazing. I love how strong you are.”

She really doesn’t know what to make of it. So then she wonders if it instead comes down to a matter of levels. Eren can accept and admire her strength because it is only of a certain level, but he can’t accept or admire Mikasa’s because her level is so much higher. He did say that she is exceedingly good at everything, and Armin did concur to that. Maybe she shouldn’t have gone down that rabbit hole of thought, because she finds herself, the next day, attacking the punching bag with such ferocity that everyone else in the gym gives her a wider breadth than usual.

She knows she’s exceptional. There hasn’t been anyone on par with her for the longest time because she has surpassed them all. She’s even been scouted to fight professionally or to coach if she will not fight but she only declines because she doesn’t want that kind of attention and responsibility. Eren, getting better every day, is still leagues below her level with not a single victory against her. Does that then imply that Mikasa’s level is leagues above hers? She realizes too late that she really shouldn’t have pursued this train of thought when that inevitable feeling creeps up on her and takes hold. The feeling of needing to know for herself.

It’s not a matter of competitiveness. It’s not a matter of win or lose. She simply needs to know how good is exceedingly good. And how does exceedingly good fare against exceptional. But she’s not supposed to know about Mikasa and seeing as the only time she ever interacts with Mikasa is when Eren is also present, there’s no chance to discreetly ask either. So even though it’s not Mikasa’s fault, she does admit the inability to sate her curiosity leads her to be intentionally provocative. One time she tries to accidentally bump into Mikasa, if only to get a feel for Mikasa’s body underneath the concealing clothes. But if backfires spectacularly when Mikasa’s reflexes has her swerving out of the way at the very last moment, leaving Annie to bump into air. Mikasa gives her a look like she knows that shouldn’t have happened, that Annie’s balance is better than that, and all Annie wants to do is challenge her right there.

She doesn’t know what exactly it is about Mikasa. Someone as passionless as her, with such empty eyes, who doesn’t even have enough pride in her skills that she’d hide it at someone else’s say so, surely someone like that doesn’t deserve her interest? Eren may be formless and lacks discipline, but in his eyes burns an uncontrollable passion. Like he’s bigger than his own body. That’s what’s attractive about him. Compared to him, Mikasa just pisses her off. She can’t place a finger on why. Mikasa just does.

But despite all her rationalizations about why Mikasa isn’t worth her attention, it does nothing to ease the growing desire to fight her. One that gets worse when no one in the gym gives her any challenge at all. When the situation continues for too many days to the point that even the oblivious Eren notices something off with her, she finally decides to seek external help. The only person in recent memory that has given her a hard time. And he had probably been going easy on her too. He’s a friend of her father, from when her father was still able to fight. But it has been some years since they last met, so perhaps she’ll find the years has gotten to him. Then if not him, he might have a protege she can have a bout against. She wonders about that though, considering his dojo is not open to the public and his fighting techniques only passed down to members of his clan. As she understands it, the clan has become so scattered that there aren’t many of them left. But there’s only one way to find out.

It takes a train and a bus to get to the sleepy town on the outskirts of the city where his dojo is located. Not wanting to interrupt, she waits outside until the lights go off and sure enough, he emerges from within.

“Oh, who’s that?” he squints, and then brightens with a laugh. “If it isn’t Leonhardt’s little rascal!”

She walks up to him and pays him respect as she would any master of their craft, with a slight bow. “Kenny. It’s been a while.”

He places a hand on her shoulder. “Indeed! Visit any later and you might only find news of my passing.”

“It’s not your time yet.”

“Heh, not today anyway. Care to have a drink with this old man?”

She’d rather not, but it’s as good as any opportunity to bring it up. “Sure.”

He laughs again. “My lucky day. Having drinks with two beautiful ladies.”

Two? Then Annie hears the metal gate of the dojo shutting behind Kenny, and an incredibly familiar voice rings out.

“I’m not drinking, Kenny. I told you I drove here.”

“Don’t be such a party poop—”

“Mikasa?”

Kenny cast glances between them both, and breaks into a large grin. “Two beautiful ladies who know each other. Even better.”

Annie watches as Mikasa approaches them and then looks up at Kenny. “You opened up your dojo?”

The face Kenny pulls is an instant answer. “What? Why would I do that?”

Her gaze drops back to Mikasa. “But you’re...?”

“Hm? Mikasa?” Kenny turns to her and wraps an arm around her shoulder. “She’s one of us. An Ackerman.”

Mikasa drives her home after drinks. True to her word, she doesn’t drink a single drop. Annie never does bring up the reason she’s here, but then again, Mikasa’s appearance changes everything. She looks at Mikasa from the front passenger seat, wondering why she’d just assumed that Mikasa is a Yeager like Eren. She’s adopted, and thinking back, Eren never mentions her surname during introductions. It’s just assumptions all the way. So she’s an Ackerman. And her fighting style is no doubt that of the Ackerman clan. It’s not a fighting style that lends itself well to friendly sparring. As her father tells it, in generations past, the Ackerman clan was a warrior clan, serving as soldiers and bodyguards. Their techniques are designed to kill. In her spar with Kenny years ago, he omits offensive moves, using only defense and counters. And even then he gave her a hard time.

“So you do fight.”

Mikasa, ever the conscientious driver, doesn’t take her eye off the road. But her eyebrow does lift slightly, probably because she realizes that it’s a statement, not a question. Her reply is a statement too. “Armin.”

It’s no surprise she figures it out. They’re practically strangers with two mutual friends, one of whom seems dead set on denying that she fights. That leaves the other. “I promised him not to tell.”

Slowing down at an intersection, Mikasa finds it safe enough to glance at her. “You saw me at the dojo. You would have found out even without his information.”

“I didn’t know you trained under Kenny.”

“I don’t. I train under his nephew, Levi,” Mikasa replies, eyes back on the road. “Levi sprained his ankle some time last year, so he sent me here to train under Kenny. Their styles are different. Kenny’s is purer. So I come here once a week to seek his tutelage.”

Levi Ackerman? Now that’s a name she knows too. He trains professional fighters, so his style is more of a fusion of other styles. They’re also less lethal, since he has to abide by competition rules. So it’s likely Mikasa’s style takes after his. Which means, safe to spar.

“You train under Levi? Not your father?”

“There’s a reason I’m adopted.”

Mikasa throws it out just like that, so casually, that it takes a few seconds for her to register the implication behind the words. “Oh. I’m sorry. That was insensitive.”

Mikasa shakes her head and shrugs. “You didn’t know. It happened long ago.”

Annie lets it grow silent after that, unsure if Mikasa is truly over the nerve she hit, or she’s being polite about it. But a car ride is far quicker than a train and a bus, and soon she’s seeing familiar roads and sceneries. It won’t be long before they reach her place, so if she wants to say anything, she needs to say it now. Now while she doesn’t sense any of that courteous front Mikasa always puts up. Now while they’re both as open and real as they’ve never been.

“Fight me.”

“No.”

The answer comes before she even hears her challenge resound in the confines of the car. It comes so fast it’s like Mikasa has been expecting her to say that, and the answer has been sitting on the tip of her tongue, just waiting to be spoken. It pisses her off that Mikasa doesn’t even consider it. It pisses her off even more that Mikasa doesn’t react in any way save answering.

“Why not?”

“I don’t see any reason why I should fight you. I’m not interested in contests of strength, Annie. I know you’re a great fighter, and I know you’re skilled. I’ve seen Eren practicing his forms. You’re teaching him well.”

With the mention of Eren, Annie pounces on the opportunity. “But you are strong. Is that why he hides the fact that you fight? Because he’s jealous of your strength?”

“He resents it.” Mikasa seems to force the words out through her teeth and Annie swears she sees her knuckles tighten on the steering wheel just briefly. But then Mikasa sighs, and her voice loses the edge. “He resents it, and my protectiveness. For me, it’s only a matter of course to protect those I love. For him, it’s a burden.”

She’s hitting a lot of nerves today. Her desire to fight Mikasa even seems rather petty in the face of whatever issues Mikasa has with Eren. Is it just a sibling thing? Or does it run deeper than that? Without siblings of her own, she can’t really tell. But the heaviness surrounding Mikasa does suggest she’s been privy to something she wouldn’t normally be privy too. So it falls to her to not make light of the situation. She may not know much about Mikasa, but one thing is clear to her. Because they’re similar.

“Mikasa.” A twitch is the only sign Mikasa’s listening. But really, in the small confines of the car without even the drone of the radio as distraction, there isn’t much else for Mikasa to listen to. “I may not like you, but I respect you. I’ve known who you really are the moment I saw you for real in Eren’s house. You’re strong, and I think that using your strength to protect those you love is not wrong. Your intention is nothing but commendable.” Mikasa says nothing and Annie presses on. “It is because I respect you that I want to fight you. I’ve been made curious about your strength and now I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s not about win or lose, Mikasa. I just need to know. Whatever the outcome, I’ll be satisfied to have traded blows with you.”

The car slows down and she feels it pull to the side before she blinks and realizes that they’ve arrived at her place. Part of her is impressed that Mikasa remembers exactly how to get here without a single reminder from her, the other part refuses to leave the car until she’s done talking and she’s gotten an answer. She knows that if she leaves this here, the moment she steps out and closes the door, it’ll only get buried and when they meet next, Mikasa will pretend this conversation never happened. Mikasa pushes the gear into Park and pulls up the hand brake.

Annie feels a smirk tugging at her lips. “Fight me, Mikasa. Just once. Fight me and I promise I’ll never bring it up again. Eren doesn’t even need to know.”

The wait for Mikasa’s response feels longer than it probably is. She watches Mikasa’s fingers drum on the steering, watches the rise and fall of her chest, and when Mikasa sighs and glances at her, she knows she has it in the bag.

“All right. Come by Thursday. I’ll ask Kenny to let us use the dojo.”

She doesn’t remember how they part after that, but running up the stairs to her unit, she does remember having agreed to dinner with Eren on Thursday. Fishing out her phone from her pocket, she quickly texts him to cancel it.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and feedback much appreciated.


	2. this girl is only gonna break your heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all those who commented and gave kudos for the previous chapter. I love receiving feedback about my stories so please, never hesitate to talk to me about it. 
> 
> \--
> 
> Chapter title taken from a line from the song Wicked Game by Chris Isaak.

On Thursday, she’s there at the dojo an hour before the scheduled time. When Mikasa shows up, she doesn’t seem surprised to see her already waiting, only wordlessly gesturing her to come in and allocating her a corner to do her warm up and preparations. She does so silently, stretching her muscles and joints as she watches Mikasa in the other corner doing the same. And then Mikasa pulls off her sweatshirt and pants, and for the first time since meeting her, Annie lays her eyes on Mikasa’s body unconcealed by her clothes. It is insane. Dressed in an athletic tank and form fitting leggings, it leaves nothing to the imagination. It is almost too much, too suddenly, and she has to snap herself out of blatantly staring.

The arms and shoulders. The thighs and calves. The abs. How does one even get muscles like that? Annie looks down at herself, having always been quite proud of her form, lean and powerful, with a respectable definition. But clearly, she doesn’t hold a candle to Mikasa. Maybe that is what Eren is so intimidated by. Not her though. She is not intimidated in the slightest. If anything, there is only the thrill of a worthy opponent. And she wants nothing more than to test those muscles against hers.

“All right.” A clap echoes in the dojo hall. “In the center you two.” Kenny appears from a separate room carrying a magazine in his hands. “Last one standing wins. Let’s have a clean fight. No weapons, no dirty tactics, and no lethal moves. I’m going to have a lot of explaining to do if either one of you dies in my dojo. You want blood, you do it outside, we clear?”

She nods the same time Mikasa assents, and then Kenny removes himself from view, leaving nothing and no one in her line of sight but Mikasa. There is no start signal, nothing from Kenny, no agreed upon waiting period. She merely sees the twitch of Mikasa’s hips, and she pounces. The match goes just about how she predicts. She uses Mikasa’s strength against her, getting in some of the hardest drops and throws she’s ever had. The only reason she couldn’t end the match right there is because that very strength has Mikasa powering her way out of submission holds. When Mikasa almost twists her wrist escaping a choke hold, Annie abandons the idea and resorts to kicks instead. Grapples and submissions are all nice and good, but victory by tapping out isn’t exactly last one standing. Kicks are just way more fun, and as it happens, it’s her trump card.

Internally, she credits Mikasa for managing to bring her to this point but at the same time she can’t help but think that there is nothing inherently impressive about Mikasa’s fighting. She’s strong, she can take the hits, and she can power her way out of submissions. That last bit is in itself quite commendable, but with all the descriptions of exceedingly good, this isn’t what she expects. In fact, thinking back, it’s all decidedly defensive.

Irritated, she raises her arms to assume her stance. “You’d better not be going easy on me, Mikasa.”

Instantly something shifts. Mikasa’s stance, always open and unguarded, somehow becomes even looser. Mikasa’s eyes however, does the opposite, growing narrower and a shade darker. But most obvious of all is the circling Mikasa begins to do. And there are only two reasons people circle. One, that they know what they’re doing and are looking for an opening. Two, that they don’t, and are looking to intimidate. Annie tightens up her form, not giving Mikasa a chance to decide whether to be one or two, and lunges in for a roundhouse kick to her head. Save a last minute raise of her hand, the kick connects and the momentum drags Mikasa across the floor. But to her horror, the hand bracing her leg shifts up and around, grabbing hold of her ankle and pulling her forward. She barely has time to bring her guard up when the force accumulates with a knee to her stomach.

It knocks the wind out of her, but her instincts kick in when her back hits the ground, and she rolls away to put some distance between herself and Mikasa. Only when she’s sure that Mikasa isn’t pursuing the attack does she let herself cough and gasp for air. And that’s when she hears the snickering.

“Form up, Annie,” Kenny’s voice rings out from the far side. “The real fight starts now.”

She doesn’t take her eyes off of Mikasa even when Kenny speaks and the realization of what he means sinks in. Mikasa flexes the arm that took the brunt of her kick, but besides that, she doesn’t appear to be affected at all. Not at all like her, crumpled on the floor, nursing a aching gut and a wounded pride. She’s underestimating Mikasa. That’s what she gets for thinking she’s at the top of her game, that no one can defeat her. She absolutely deserves that knee. Mikasa is strong. She’s tough. She can take those hits. And all Annie has done thus far, is waste her energy. Taking a deep breath for steadiness, she suppresses the pain and stands up, resuming her stance. She’s never underestimating Mikasa again. This is a real challenge and she intends to meet it with all she’s worth. When Mikasa starts to circle again, she feels the unmistakable rush of adrenaline. Indeed, the real fight starts now.

Mikasa wins, eventually. She loses track of how long the fight goes on for, only that at the end, it takes all of her just to remain standing. Her lungs burn for air, her body slick with sweat, and her muscles ache with exhaustion, but Mikasa circles still and if there’s one thing her father drills into her, that is to never give up. So she stands, and watches Mikasa circling. It’s clear Mikasa isn’t doing so well herself with that laboured breathing, and the reaction time on that arm that got kicked is slower than the rest of her, but compared to Annie, her endurance is terrifying. Whenever Mikasa lands a hit, it is powerful and a few very nearly knocks her out, but Mikasa takes probably three times as many hits as she lands. And each time, she just gets up again, and again, and again. She won’t admit it, but at some point, a tinge of fear creeps into the awe. Mikasa just won’t stay down.

The winning move comes in the form of a tackle and when she lands on an already forming bruise, all she wants to do is tap out. But her pride won’t let her do it so she struggles instead, twisting and pushing against Mikasa’s inexperienced attempts to get a choke hold on her. It becomes a dizzying mess of limbs where she isn’t sure the hand before her is hers or Mikasa’s. The weight of Mikasa on top of her, the heat from their bodies, the humid breaths, they are all disorienting. And that’s when it happens. One moment, Mikasa’s knee is a stab of pain on her hip. The next, somebody moves and the knee slips down in between her legs. And pushes.

Warmth floods her guts, racing all the way up to burn her face hotter. Annie gasps at her body’s reaction that shouldn’t happen, that has never before happened in a fight, because she’s _fighting_. She’s exhausted, her muscles ache everywhere, she shouldn’t have it in her to even feel this, but when her insides flip at another push of Mikasa’s knee, she panics at the sensation. Her thighs clamp down on Mikasa’s leg, trying to stop it from moving as she braces her arms on Mikasa’s shoulders to push her away only for Mikasa to misunderstand and resist the push, leaning in closer and snaking arms around her neck. Her arousal spikes from the closeness, from all the contact, and when fingers on her throat elicits shivers instead of alarm Annie taps out. And then again, slamming her hands hard on the floor when Mikasa doesn’t stop immediately.

“Match!”

She notices the confusion on Mikasa’s face and she quickly looks away, not wanting to see those dark eyes peer down at her, afraid that Mikasa might recognize that the flush on her face isn’t from exertion alone. But even as Mikasa pushes herself up she is still close enough that Annie feels her exhalations tingle her skin and her knee remains pressed against her. Realizing suddenly that she is the one holding Mikasa’s knee unmoving, she slackens her thighs and just like that, the tension breaks between them. Mikasa stiffly proceeds to move off as Annie herself scrambles out from under her and instantly trots her way to her corner, ignoring the look Kenny gives her. Her father would be disappointed if he were here, but right now she doesn’t care. Not while her body thrums with unfulfilled arousal.

She declines drinks, and she declines Mikasa’s offer to send her home. Thankfully she has enough sense to mumble an acknowledgement of Mikasa’s win and to express gratitude to Kenny for allowing the use of his dojo before she bolts right out of there. The chilly night air does nothing to ease the thrumming, nor does the long journey home, and when the journey is lengthier than she remembers, she almost regrets not taking up Mikasa’s offer. But no, being stuck in a small car with Mikasa, feeling the way she does, would be infinitely worse. She’s never felt like this before, not while she’s fighting, not even in general, and she doesn’t understand what is going on. All she knows is that long after the stimulation has stopped, her nerves are still tingling with arousal. She has half a mind to drop by Eren’s, but explaining her state seems more hassle than it’s worth so she settles with simply rubbing one out in her shower.

It makes the next couple of meetings with Mikasa decidedly awkward, at least for her. Not because she thought of Mikasa while masturbating or anything like that, but because the source of her arousal is Mikasa. Which just adds another layer of strange to her dating Mikasa’s brother. And she likes Eren. She likes Eren very much. But sitting next to him on couch for an after dinner movie, his hand around her waist, she finds her eyes drifting over to Mikasa anyway.

“You’re staring a lot,” Mikasa says after having followed her towards the washroom. “Is there a reason for that?”

She considers denying because it feels like she’ll lose something if she admits it, but one look at Mikasa’s face she scraps the thought. Mikasa wouldn’t voice it out if it’s only a suspicion. It’s true anyway.

Mikasa folds her arms, voice dropping to a whisper. “Look, is this about the fight? You promised me that it’s just once, win or lose, so if you’re thinking of wanting a rematch or somethi—”

“No, it’s not that,” she says, cutting Mikasa off. “You won that fair and square. We’re done.”

“All right. Then why are you staring?”

Mikasa’s eyes peer at her, and she remembers them peering down at her, remembers the breath on her face, remembers the knee between her legs. Annie shifts, looking away and subtly taking a step back.

“Nothing. It’s nothing. I’m just...impressed, I guess.”

She doesn’t need to see Mikasa’s expression to know the other girl doesn’t buy that excuse. She wouldn’t either, had she been on the receiving end. It reeks of impromptu making up. But eventually Mikasa sighs and takes a step back herself.

“Whatever. Just stop it. Eren’s dense, but even he will notice at the rate you’re going. Remember, he can’t find out that you know.”

She really hates the way Mikasa talks to her. Like she’s the dense one. Like she can just turn off the staring by willing it. She should, but it frustrates her that she can’t. It frustrates her that there really isn’t anything she likes about Mikasa’s person, yet at the same time, there’s something undeniably magnetic about her. And it definitely frustrates her that she can’t stop thinking about Mikasa in the aftermath. Everything else just seems so dull in comparison. Fighting Eren becomes dull. Fighting anyone becomes dull. Working out becomes dull. Even things that shouldn’t have anything to do with Mikasa, becomes dull. Food becomes bland, bus rides becomes a slow affair, music becomes boring. It frustrates her because she doesn’t know why this is happening.

“All right. What is going on?”

Reiner’s voice brings her out of her stump and he stares at her from across the table, arms crossed. Bertholdt is still going about his business in the restaurant, but it’s clear from his slightly tilted head that he is paying attention too.

She looks down at the plate before her on the table, her fork having speared a broccoli. “What do you mean?”

“Your only comment on the past three dishes is ‘It’s great’. Come on, you know you’re my guinea pig because you’re a harsh critic. They can’t all be great. I went really experimental this time. So something must be wrong.”

Indeed there are some questionable combinations in his dishes, and she knows he’s eager to finalize his new summer menu, but all food just tastes bland to her right now. She pushes the plate away and sighs. “I’m sorry I’m not much help.”

“Is everything all right between you and Eren?”

Annie narrows her eyes at him. “What does this have to do with him?”

Reiner shrugs, leaning back on him chair. “He’s the only thing new going on with you recently.”

“We’re fine.” Technically true, so it rolls off her tongue easily.

He hums as though considering the truth of her statement, and then he fires out his next question. “How’s the sex?”

Her first reaction is indignation, because that question just seems inappropriate no matter how long they’ve been friends or how close they are. But as the words sink in, the indignation bleeds away because while Reiner might be shooting in the dark, he has actually hit the mark. It is mortifying when she discovers, once her bruises from fighting Mikasa finally heals enough to not arouse Eren’s suspicions, that like all other things, sex with Eren has also become dull. And though he is a good lover, and he does his very best to please her, she doesn’t achieve her release. As she hasn’t for the past three times. She eventually fakes it for his pride and his effort, but it leaves her feeling vexed.

She musters as much conviction as she can into her voice. “It’s fine.”

Reiner instantly snaps his fingers. “That’s your problem. Lacklustre sex.”

“What? I just said it’s fine.”

“It’s not fantastic.”

“It doesn’t need to be fantastic.” It just needs to go back to the way it is before, when sex with him is nice and enjoyable.

“Of course it needs to be fantastic,” Reiner replies and immediately he holds up a hand to stop her retort, instead waving Bertholdt over. “Look, hear me out, All right? I’m not just talking out of my ass.”

Bertholdt joins them on the table, and together, both he and Reiner regard her with intensity and affection. She knows they mean well, that they’re doing this because they care for her, but to her it’s just unnerving.

“Annie, you’re a physical person. That’s how you interact with the world, with your physicality. You’re not the type who meets someone and say, ‘Hi, I’m Annie, nice to meet you.’ No. You flip them over their ass, and if they take it well, then you talk. You did that to me, to Bert, you did that to Eren, even. That’s why you’re in a relationship with him, a proper relationship.”

The way he talks with such surety about her, she can’t help but bristle. “I don’t only ge—”

He cuts her off with a held up hand as he raises an eyebrow almost challengingly. Annie deflates, because he’s right, again. She’s only ever had physical relationships prior, with Marcel, Pieck, and the rest were a smattering of short lived flings or one night stands. Eren is the only one who is different, because no one else she’s thrown down ever cared to get close to her but him. She’s in awe of his resilience just as he’s in awe of her skill.

“Fine. Point taken. What does that have to do with sex?”

Reiner nods, satisfied. “So, going back to sex, because you’re a physical person, the point of engagement between you and your partner will primarily be sex. That’s just how you roll. You gave Eren a beat down, he got up and came back for more. You’re impressed by that, your body is impressed by that, and so your body expects that he will be great in bed and when he isn’t, this happens.”

“Stop talking like me and my body are separate entities.”

“Okay. Scrap your body. You. You expect the sex to be fantastic, but instead it’s lacklustre.”

Part of her wants to protest that because this wasn’t a thing until recently. Before this, sex with Eren has been fine. Normal. Then Mikasa happened. So it’s all Mikasa’s fault really. But she can’t say that. “So what? I can only be with someone who I have fantastic sex with?”

“Of course not,” Bertholdt speaks for the first time. “Eren is a good person. I think both of you are really compatible.”

“That means, you just have to have fantastic sex with Eren. Spice it up,” Reiner concludes, saying it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “That’s it. So that the next time I ask you this, you’ll tell me to shut up and mind my own business instead of that sombre ‘it’s fine.’ Okay?”

The realization hits her like bricks. The reason they’re having this incredibly awkward conversation about her sex life, is because she okayed it. Might as well. “How will I know when it’s fantastic and when it’s not?”

Reiner only grins. “You’ll know, Annie. Just as you know when you’re facing a worthy opponent. You’ll definitely know.”

But she doesn’t know. She really doesn’t know. Sex with Eren is just normal. Normal like all her previous sexual partners. He comes. She comes. That’s all the measure of successful sex that she knows. And going by that measure, disregarding her current predicament, their sex life is good. How much more fantastic can sex get? But as Reiner’s words repeat in her head like a broken radio, she finds herself thinking of her most recent worthy opponent. Of the singeing state of arousal that opponent had awoken within her. Of the agonizingly long train ride home filled with no other thoughts but to sate that arousal. Of her body that now burns up at the memory.

She tries very hard that night. Shutting out Reiner, Mikasa, and everything else, she focuses solely on Eren and the sensations he elicits from her. His kisses, his touches, his warmth, his breath on her skin, his grunts of pleasure. It’s all very nice and her body responds as it should, trembling and tingling at his ministrations. But that’s all it does and frustratingly, she finds that her arousal goes nowhere. It doesn’t build, it doesn’t rise, and even as she sees Eren approaching his end, her own is nowhere in sight. She responds with more fervor, kissing him deeply, slowly, opening herself to him, pulling him closer, but all it achieves is igniting more of Eren’s excitement, and none of hers. When Eren settles between her legs and all she thinks of is relief he uses lube, instead of the anticipation of their joining, she resigns herself to pretending. Again.

Maybe because of her resignation, she lets her mind wander. In hindsight, she probably shouldn’t have let it happen, but she starts to take note of odd things while Eren thrusts away. She traces the lines of his muscles with her fingers, she bucks against his body weighing her down, she feels the pattern of his breath on her face. Distantly, she gets the sense that she’s comparing him with someone. And the moment she lets that thought trickle in, it materializes, the person she’s comparing him to materializes, and of course, it’s none other than Mikasa. So she lets Mikasa materialize, remembering the one time she was under Mikasa, pinned to the floor of the dojo, sweat slicked and tired. She remembers her laboured breaths not unlike Eren’s now, prickling the skin of her neck, her weight slightly heavier than Eren bearing down on her, her hard muscles not as pronounced, but no less impressive.

Then she imagines what it would be like if Mikasa is the one here now, fucking her with a strap-on.

Her arousal spikes, suddenly and all at once. She gasps as her body shudders, as it comes _alive_ , as though just only realizing there’s a cock inside her thrusting away and she heats up everywhere. Eren groans gutturally, feeling her reaction, and begins to move more frantically, but she is beyond caring about his pleasure. Her state of arousal is the same nerve tingling one from that day and she doesn’t intend to let it go without getting something out of it. Flipping them over, she rides him hard and fast, hitting that one spot within as she chases her orgasm, knowing full well he is not the one on her mind. When she finally crests over the edge she makes an effort to look at him, to let his face be the one she sees, but his eyes draw close as she clenches down and in the absence of his clear green orbs, all she sees are dark, steely, passionless grays.

The same dark, steely, passionless grays that she’s unable to meet the next time she sees Mikasa. If their last meeting she’s staring too much, now she’s not looking at all. Not while Eren is there, unaware of what she has done. It’s one thing to think of Mikasa while she masturbates in her own shower, but it’s another thing altogether to actively think of Mikasa while having sex with her boyfriend, Mikasa's brother. She could hardly look at Eren immediately after for despite her guilt, there is no denying how good her body feels, thrumming with joy from the most intense release she’s had in a while. So she sits close to him, holds his hand, listens to him talk, enjoys his company, but when the click of the door announces Mikasa’s arrival, when her voice carries into the living room from the doorway, Annie shivers in spite of all she tries.

She doesn’t meet her eyes, or his, and if either of them notices, neither of them mentions it. But not meeting Mikasa’s eyes doesn’t mean that she doesn’t look elsewhere. With the weather warming up to welcome summer, Mikasa has finally ditched her sweaters and cardigans for thinner clothes that better reflect her form. She lets her gaze roam over Mikasa appreciatively, from the noticeable bulge of her biceps, to her wide shoulders, to the smooth expanse of neck uncovered by the opted out scarf. Then she looks at something else. Mikasa’s hands, as she places the three bowls of home-cooked ramen and three cups of tea on the table. She watches the same hands working the chopsticks into the noodle. She watches the fingers turning the teacup, tracing its rim, before it is lifted to a pair of soft lips.

“Is it too spicy?”

Annie snaps up at the voice and turns to find Eren peering at her with concern, and that’s how she knows her face has flushed red. She takes the out, quickly picking up her tea and drinking a mouthful as she banishes the images of fingers and lips touching her skin.

“Is it? Sorry,” Mikasa says from across the table, placing her teacup down. “I thought of going for the clear broth, but Eren prefers the spicy one. I should have warned you.”

“No, it’s all right. You shouldn’t need to cater to me,” Annie says, shaking her head as she glances not quite at Mikasa, her gaze instead drawn to her jawline. She drops them to her bowl. “It’s really delicious.”

“You sure?” Eren asks. “You don’t have to finish it if you can’t. I’ll get you something else later.”

And then he’s reaching for the teapot in the center of the table, refilling her teacup with a small smile, and she feels her throat constrict as her appetite leaves her. The guilt that she hasn’t felt so keenly before suddenly comes swinging back, crashing into her and leaving a heavy feeling in her chest. She hears the sound of Mikasa’s chopsticks while Eren continues to gaze at her, patiently awaiting her answer. She forces the rest of her noodles down. After that, she doesn’t stay the night, and she leaves much earlier than she usually does. Once she hits the streets, she jogs all the way back to her apartment, breaking into a full sprint as certain points, but the sticky, sickening sensation creeping around her chest stay with her.

She doesn’t see Eren outside their fight classes after that. She doesn’t go over, invite him over, go on dates, and she certainly doesn’t have sex with him, not while she isn’t sure who she’ll think of while doing it. Eren doesn’t comment on it, always having been good at reading her moods, and not for the first time, she’s appreciates that part of him. But when Sunday rolls around again, despite considering not going to join their dinner, it’s almost routine by now that she finds herself at the threshold of Eren’s door before she thinks better of it. He welcomes her as usual with a big grin on his face, a hug and a kiss, and it floods her with relief when she realizes that she has missed him. Mikasa welcomes her as usual too, with a stoic half nod and a one liner greeting, and it floods her with warmth when her mouth goes dry and her heart rate picks up. The discrepancy is at once startling and not, and she accepts it in a stride. This time, she stays for a while after dinner and sits with Eren on the couch once Mikasa leaves.

“Are you staying the night?” he asks.

“I’m on my period.” It’s a lie, but one that she has used often enough at various points of her life that she delivers it smoothly.

“Oh, no no, I didn’t mean it that way,” he replies as he shakes his hand frantically. “I mean just stay. Over. And we can just...cuddle or something.”

She smiles wryly because they never just cuddle. It always precedes something, or is preceded by something. Perhaps they could start just cuddling, but no, she knows she’s not being a great girlfriend right now. And him being a great boyfriend, quietly supportive while giving her space, only makes it worse. Making up her mind, she pushes herself off the couch to kneel down between his legs.

“Do you need it?” she asks, reaching for the buckle of his jeans. “I’ll blow you.”

He flusters immediately and denies it but it is a half-hearted protest at best, seeing as he doesn’t remove her hands from his buckle. So she pops it, and a silent eagerness takes over his features. She goes to work, pulling down his zipper and then his boxers beneath. When she wraps her hand around his shaft and he moans, she wastes no time opening her mouth to take him in. At least this way, she can focus entirely on his pleasure without chasing after her own. And at least this way, she can be sure she won’t fantasize about someone else, as neither she nor Mikasa have a penis. The lack of appendage doesn’t stop the thought of her between Mikasa’s legs though, or Mikasa between hers, and it makes her clench her thighs together painfully.

It dawns on her, lying on her bed that night while rubbing herself through her panties, that she should talk to Eren. Because the longer she hides this, the more it feels like she’s doing something wrong. Like she’s cheating, even though she hasn’t actually done anything with Mikasa except spar her behind Eren’s back. It’s not like she even wants to cheat on Eren with Mikasa. She knows for a fact she doesn’t like Mikasa. They can’t get through one conversation without Mikasa pissing her off somehow. This, whatever this is, is only physical. But that’s not exactly a comfort when Eren’s feelings of inferiority towards Mikasa is centered precisely on her physical strength. If she tells him that her physical and sexual attraction to Mikasa stems from the very thing about her he tried to hide, she doesn’t doubt that it will only make him feel ‘beaten’ by Mikasa once again. Annie knows she cannot do that to him. But, as she reaches a back arching orgasm to the fantasy of strong arms holding her open, fingers and lips in her and on her, she knows she cannot continue like this either.

The next Sunday evening, she stays home. She’s not sure whether it’s because she doesn’t want to see Mikasa, or she doesn’t want to see Mikasa while Eren is there. The other girl has been the subject of her sexual fantasies far too many times now she can’t trust the expression on her face won’t give it away if she sees her in person. Eren doesn’t prod, as usual, simply asking if she’s okay and letting her be at her affirmation. So when her doorbell rings at ten-thirty, around the time she normally arrives home had she gone to the dinner and not stay over, she expects it to be Eren, checking up on her. When she finds Mikasa on the other side of the door instead, her reaction cycles between elation, surprise, shock, disbelief, and plain numbness. Mikasa however, doesn’t share her confusion, if the hard line of her mouth and her narrowed eyebrows says anything.

“Mikasa?” she says tentatively and when Mikasa remains there, proving herself not a figment of her imagination, Annie swallows and goes on. “How did you know my unit?”

“Eren told me.”

At the mention of Eren, Annie scans the hallway, but there is no one but Mikasa. “Did he send you?”

“No,” Mikasa answers simply, and then she tilts her head. “Although he’s probably hoping that I would come here.”

She doesn’t quite understand and she doesn’t quite know how to feel, but either way, she can’t exactly leave Mikasa standing outside so she pulls the door open. “Come in then, since you’re here.”

Mikasa enters slowly, clearly looking around the interior of Annie’s apartment each step of the way and ignoring Annie’s offer to sit wherever. She just stands unmovng in the space between the living room and the kitchen, hands in the pockets of her jacket, seemingly lost in thought. Annie moves to at least pour a glass of water for her guest when it hits her that Mikasa, the real Mikasa, is in her house. She ends up drinking the glass of water herself to settle her nerves and snap herself out of her head, remembering that Mikasa mentioned Eren. That itself tells her this is not a pleasant visit. Abandoning the idea of offering Mikasa a drink, feeling like it would also be ignored, Annie turns around to lean her weight on the refrigerator, and waits.

It doesn’t take too long before Mikasa looks her way. “What is going on between you and Eren?”

Of course that is what Mikasa asks. Straight to the point too. Annie wonders how much she knows, then decides to test it. “What do you mean? Nothing is going on.”

“Then why did Eren just spend the entire dinner telling me that he thinks something is wrong?”

Annie pauses, not having expected that Eren would speak to someone else before speaking to her. A little bit overkill in respecting her personal space. “What did he tell you?”

“Everything.” Mikasa rolls her eyes and chalks up a glare. “Do you want me to say it? I could.”

Her fingers clench on the glass in her hand and already she’s feeling like she wants to kick Mikasa right out of her house. Mikasa really pisses her off and once again, she wonders why she even wants this woman. Sighing, she places the glass on the table and drops onto one of the stools. She doesn’t know how to explain, and she doesn’t know if she wants to. Burying her head in her hands, she bids her time and hears Mikasa pulling out the stool on the opposite end of the square table and similarly sitting down. Thankfully, Mikasa speaks first.

“Annie, if Eren has done something, or is doing something that you don’t know how to talk to him about, then you can tell me. I’m his sister, I’m good at telling him things he doesn’t want to hear.”

Raising her head, Annie glances at Mikasa, not expecting that.

“Or,” Mikasa adds with emphasis. “If you have done something, or are doing something you can’t tell Eren about, then as his sister I want to know. I won’t interfere, but I want to know if I need to be there for him.”

She presses her face into her hands, sighing again. “Eren hasn’t done anything. And neither have I, technically.”

“Technically? If no one has done anything, then tell me how does a relationship with a healthy sex life suddenly turns to you only giving him oral? Technically, something happened.”

Annie groans inwardly, chagrined at how much detail Eren has divulged about their sexual activity to his sister. Taking a deep breath, she lowers her hands onto the table and turns to face Mikasa. At the very least, there’s no judgment in Mikasa’s expression, she hasn’t already decided who’s at fault. Belatedly, Annie realizes that she doesn’t have a cover for this, and she doesn’t want to lie anyway.

“I can’t have sex with him. I don’t want to.”

“Why?”

The moment of truth. She draws her arms from the table into herself and drops her gaze. But that action only brings her legs into her view, prompting her to remember the times she had thought of Mikasa between them. And now Mikasa is right across the table. Flushing, she crosses her legs and blurts it out.

“I keep thinking of you.”

The words sound loud to her own ears, but when Mikasa doesn’t say anything for long seconds, she starts to wonder if she whispered it, or only said it in her own head. That could be possible. No way this is easy to say. She’s never had to tell someone she’s sexually fantasizing about that she’s sexually fantasizing about them. Dreading to repeat it, she raises her eyes and—

“What did you say?”

Mikasa seems baffled, like it’s her turn to cycle through reactions as Annie did at the door. She’s probably also wishing she heard it wrong, but Annie knows she heard it right. Annie decides to just out with it. Everything. Mikasa wants to know after all. And she already knows everything from Eren’s side. Now she will know hers too. Literally everything.

“Do you know why I tapped out during our fight? You were nowhere near getting me in a choke, and I could have countered your attempts anyway. But I tapped out.”

“No?” Mikasa replies hesitantly. “I was confused too.”

She remembers the confusion on Mikasa’s face, the dark eyes peering down at her. “When we were scuffling on the floor, at one point your knee slipped between my legs and pressed against me.” She considers turning away, to save herself the sting if disgust is how Mikasa reacts, but no. If Mikasa’s reaction stings her, it’s probably a good thing. Maybe it’ll finally jolt her out of feeling this way. So she doesn’t falter, looks Mikasa in the eyes. “I got turned on. And everything, every touch, felt sexual after that. I couldn’t continue like that. So I tapped out.”

There is almost no reaction for a moment, before Mikasa’s eyebrows furrow. “I wasn’t trying to—”

“I know. I’m not blaming you. That’s just what happened.”

“Oh.” Still no disgust. If anything, Mikasa even seems pensive. “So that’s why you were staring.”

“Yeah.” It’s almost like Mikasa doesn’t mind at all that she’s been the subject of Annie’s sexual thoughts, and she doesn’t know whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you...sexually, since then. That’s why I’m not having sex with Eren. I can’t...I can’t come, not unless I think of you. And that feels wrong.”

Well, with how much she’s disclosing, she can’t really get mad at Eren anymore. But as she looks at Mikasa, her expression still disgust-free and judgment-free, she doesn’t know what to feel. She expects some level of mortification at her admission, some level of discomfort. Instead this reaction simply leaves her unsure whether to be relieved that Mikasa doesn’t mind, or frustrated that Mikasa isn’t put off.

“I see. Well, stop thinking about me then.”

Apparently, it’s neither relief nor frustration. She stands up with a huff. “Goddammit Mikasa, you piss me off so much.”

“Are you turned on right now? Please sit down.”

If there is any water left in her glass she would have tossed it right at Mikasa’s face. “Stop staring at me. Stop thinking of me. If I could do it we wouldn’t be having this conversation, Mikasa! You think I don’t want to? If I told you now to start thinking about me all the time, could you? Just because I told you to?”

“All right, all right,” Mikasa placates, having the decency to look sheepish. “I get it. Bad joke, sorry.”

“I didn’t know you could joke.”

It’s unnerving however that Mikasa isn’t entirely wrong. She is turned on, even if just slightly, even if it’s just a residual from remembering her fantasy of Mikasa eating her out, but she is. She sits back down, wishing she had bought chairs with backrests instead of stools now. One good thing about a stool though, is that she can sit with her back to Mikasa without turning the direction of the chair. It’s petty, but infinitely better than looking at Mikasa, not knowing whether she wants to hit her or kiss her. She hears Mikasa shifting, the stool dragging against the floor.

“Look Annie, I get what’s going on now, and I’m sorry for joking. Thanks for telling me all that.”

“Wait,” Annie frowns, turning around. “You’re okay with that? I’ve been—I’ve been thinking of you while I—”

“Why not? You’ve made it clear you don’t like me. So it’s physical, right? I think you’re aesthetically pleasing too.”

Annie’s breath hitches at aesthetically pleasing as warmth blooms in the pit of her stomach. But it’s clear those words means more to her than to Mikasa, judging by the return of that pensive expression and how she quickly carries on.

“What matters is what this is leading to. With Eren. Is this a precursor to you breaking up with him?”

“No!” she denies. The thought hasn’t ever crossed her mind. “Not at all. I’m just telling you why I’m not having sex with him.”

Mikasa nods, relieved. “Okay, good. Eren really likes you. I don’t know what it’d do to him if you wanted to break up.”

“I really like him too,” she replies reflexively.

“Okay, good.” Mikasa nods again, staring at the surface of the table. Then she shoves her hands back into the pockets of her jacket. “Are you planning to tell him about this?”

“I thought about it.”

“Can I ask you not to?”

She meets Mikasa’s eyes then and it becomes apparent that Mikasa, like her, is well aware how Eren would react if he knows. And like her, maybe more than her, Mikasa isn’t willing to risk what it would do to their relationship. So Annie nods, because it’s so easy for Mikasa to get angry at her, to turn this around on her, to blame her for her flighty thoughts she’s done nothing to encourage. And she’d be right. But Mikasa doesn’t. Instead she’s here making a pact of silence for something she needn’t be a part of. So Annie nods. She can give Mikasa at least this.

“I won’t.”

 

 


	3. strange what desire will make foolish people do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you kindly for all the comments and kudos. They are food for my soul. 
> 
> Shorter chapter this time in comparison, and it takes place directly after the end of Chapter 2. 
> 
> \--
> 
> Chapter title once again taken from Wicked Game by Chris Isaak.

Mikasa leaves shortly after with parting words for Annie to continue on with Eren as usual lest he becomes concerned enough to ask directly. Right now, she’s only lying to him by omission, by not telling him things he never asks anyway. But if he asks and she tells him nothing is wrong when something clearly is, that’s a plain lie, and there is no going back from there. As for the rest, time will settle it. Mikasa tells her that if she’s committed to her relationship with Eren, if her attraction to her is physical and nothing else, then it will soon fade away. She just needs to give it time. But she wonders about that. Because Mikasa doesn’t know about the fire still flicking around her belly sparked by her offhand compliment. Because Mikasa doesn’t know how easy the very thought of her touch turns her on. Because Mikasa doesn’t know how after she leaves, Annie goes to sit on the stool she sat, still warm from her body heat. Because it’s been close to five weeks now since their fight, and it’s only getting worse. When does it stop?

Not the sixth week. The sixth week is filled with an anxiety she cannot place. She goes to see Eren as usual, she even has sex with him. Only now, with Mikasa in the know, with Mikasa actually not minding it, it feels like an unsaid permission for her to use Mikasa in her head if she needs help along the way. She reasons to herself that it’s better than faking it. That Eren might notice, it would hurt him, but having someone else in her head is unnoticeable, and hurts no one. It helps that she never speaks anyone’s name during sex. Not before, and now, not ever. Eren asks her once about it, because he says her name all the time. She just smiles and kisses him, moaning louder as a response, making more varied noises, but never his name. She doesn’t want to take the risk she’ll slip out the wrong name.

The anxiety heightens when she gets home at the end of the day, if she gets home. It lingers in the space between the living room and the kitchen, and it lingers on the last stool in the corner of her dining table. She tells herself what Mikasa told her. Give it some time. It’ll go away. But she doesn’t believe it, she cannot believe it, not when Eren opens his door and she sees him dressed for going out instead of in his comfortable house clothes and he tells her—

“Ah, Annie. Mikasa just gave me a call a while back. She isn’t coming over for dinner today, so it’s just the two of us. Let’s go out to get something.”

—and all she feels is disappointment. It’s not even masked in anything else. She feels the disappointment so keenly as though she had come here to see Mikasa instead of Eren. Which isn’t right. Shouldn’t be right. So she nods at him agreeably and lets him lead the way. She knows what Mikasa is doing, of course. It’s the same thing she tries to do the week before, before Mikasa’s sudden appearance at her door throws a wrench into things. Distance. Removing herself from the equation. Giving it time. So she puts Mikasa out of her mind and commits to _be_ in a relationship with Eren. And because she does like him, and she is compatible with him, she effortlessly enjoys it. Getting invested in shared passions, laughing at his jokes, walking around aimlessly after food, it is easy to be with him.

The problem isn’t being with him. The problem is being without him. It’s laughable how quickly, once they part ways at the subway station, he slips from her mind. It’s like sex with him, feeling nice in the moment, but it doesn’t build. It doesn’t stay. By the time she closes the door of her apartment, Eren is nowhere to be found. All that’s left within is a hollow emptiness. And a desire to see a person she’s not dating. She nurses her disappointment by sitting on that one stool, which is all she can do. Because she doesn’t actually know Mikasa outside of Eren. She doesn’t know where Mikasa lives. She knows her job, but not where she works. She doesn’t even have her number, and bitterly, she knows she shouldn’t even want to know those things. But she does, and she can only pull up her hoodie over her head at the turmoil it makes her feel.

The seventh week isn’t better. It would be good enough if it didn’t get worse, but it does. She starts to sit on that one stool everyday like it’s her favorite seat, and while on it, she thinks. She imagines what Mikasa was thinking as she sat here listening to her saying she’s sexually attracted to her. She thinks of what Mikasa says, what Mikasa thought of when she says that Annie is aesthetically pleasing. She wonders if that means anything more than just words. If it means that Mikasa would find her pleasing to masturbate to, or if she’s done it before. If Mikasa is into women. Apparently, she didn’t learn from her last rabbit hole of thought regarding Mikasa, for after giving consideration to that thought, she could ponder on nothing else. There’s a saying, isn’t there, something that goes ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’? Well, maybe not heart for her, but definitely body. Absence makes her libido stronger.

There’s a part of her that feels shitty, that recognizes how messed up it is that despite it all, she still goes out with Eren. It even becomes harder to maintain the pretense while with Eren for once when he left his phone unlocked on the table as he goes to the washroom, an intense urge to open up his contacts and find Mikasa’s number overwhelms her. She doesn’t even know what she’ll do with it, she’s quite certain she’ll never actually use it, but the urge flares up anyway. Times like these, she wants nothing more than to come clean, to tell Eren exactly what’s up. It may not change things, but at least it’ll assuage her guilt, she won’t have to feel like Mikasa is a dirty little secret. But then she remembers what Mikasa asks of her, understands the strain it will put on their relationship because of her, and so she keeps silent. 

Armin shows up in place of Mikasa on Sunday. She expects it somewhat, because they’re ‘giving it time’. But logic doesn’t stave off her disappointment. He brings with him a big pot of home-cooked paella that he picks up from Mikasa’s place while relaying her regret of not being able to join due to unfinished work. It’s clear from both the men’s faces that the excuse is strange and of course it is. Being so busy she can’t join a dinner yet having enough time to cook a meal for three? Regardless, the dinner proceeds and it is markedly different than when Mikasa is there. Armin joins sometimes, but this is the first time Mikasa doesn’t. And while Eren and Mikasa never talk much, the subjects usually being her asking about his well-being which he finds irritating, or him asking about the food since he can’t cook, he talks enthusiastically with Armin about practically any subject under the sun. They try to include her, Armin more than Eren, but there is a certain chemistry to them that she finds hard to follow and after a while it becomes almost bothersome to engage. She eyes the empty seat in front of her next to Armin, wishing that Mikasa is there. They could sit in silence together. She could stare at her.

She helps Armin with the dishes after dinner while Eren gives Mikasa a call to check in on her, and she realizes her opportunity.

“Say, Armin,” she starts, and he hums at her. “Is Mikasa with anyone?”

He raises his eyebrows. “Is Mikasa with anyone? Why do you ask?”

She shrugs as casually as she can. “She didn’t show up last week either, so I just thought that instead of work, she might be seeing someone.”

It’s a plausible excuse and she sees in his face that he buys it. “Oh, I didn’t know she didn’t come last week too. That’s strange.”

“Right, so I thought you might know if something else is going on.”

It strikes her then that she never really thought about if Mikasa is in a relationship. She gets a general sense that Mikasa isn’t, and her question is more of a precursor to the actual thing she wants to ask about, but now that she’s brought it up, she wonders. She certainly doesn’t know Mikasa enough to trust that her sense about Mikasa is right.

“Hmm, I don’t know. Mikasa doesn’t really talk about her relationships. I don’t even remember her ever expressing interest in anyone save Eren all those years ago.”

Probably no then. It’s hardly believable that Armin wouldn’t know. His answer however, doesn’t bode well for her next question. He probably truly doesn’t know this one. Rinsing the final plate clean of soap, she places it on the drying rack and slowly wipes her hand on the cloth.

“Is she into women?”

Armin laughs, but he doesn’t chide her like his laughs implies. “I’ve never actually thought about her sexuality. What makes you think that?”

“I’ve got a good gaydar.” Which is true. But she adds for credibility. “Reiner and Bertholdt are gay. They taught me the clues.”

“Really? What does your gaydar say about me?” he asks, grinning.

Seeing his good humor, she answers in kind. “That you’re gay.”

He laughs again. “Right you are.” Then he turns around, dishes done, and prepares to head out of the kitchen. “I think Mikasa likes who she likes, if she likes at all, whatever they are.”

Nothing he tells her isn’t anything she suspects already, but his judgment as Mikasa’s closest friend is what she wants. And to know that his judgment agrees with her fill her with an indescribable lightness. She follows him out to the living room, and then Eren comes into view, still on the phone.

He smiles at her and Armin, moving the receiver slightly away from his mouth. “Hey, thanks for doing the dishes!”

It feels like something pops then. Like a bubble. Or maybe it doesn’t pop, but it moves from her chest where it’s light, to her throat, where it’s tight. She swallows with difficulty, her eyes flicking from Eren to Armin and then back again. And the reality smacks her in the face. Eren is her boyfriend. She likes him. But all those things she asks Armin, her gratification at his answers, there is only one reason for that. And it is not mere curiosity. She feels bad for Eren, she knows it’s unfair to him. To take his hand so easily yet be more interested in the person he’s on the phone with. But the guilt is short lived, gone the moment he is out of sight. The desire stays. That’s the only constant lately, it seems.

She considers then, really considers for the first time, breaking up with Eren. Because she really does like him, and because she believes he is a good person, an admirable person. He deserves better than someone like her. Someone who will actually treat him right. And when she wakes up Monday morning warm all over, a familiar wetness between her legs, she knows it’s too far gone. The last vestiges of the dream leaves her when she rolls over and buries her head in her pillow, all details concerning what, when, and how instantly disappearing. But she does remembers who. She remembers who. That’s the only thing that matters. And she is far past ‘giving it time’.

The next day, she seeks out the who the only other way she knows. It’s a better way too, if she thinks about it. With a train and a bus. And then she camps outside the door, squatting down against the wall next to it as she waits. It takes a while, because she’s here early, but eventually the door opens and the who steps out. Alone.

Mikasa’s first reaction is surprise, but she must see something in her face, for her eyes quickly hardens. And for a flickering moment, it even seems like she wants to pretend not to have seen her and walk on. Or maybe that second part is her imagination.

“Annie...what are you doing here?”

Annie shoots up to her feet, flexing her legs to get the blood flowing, glad for the pinprick sensations distracting her from anything else. “I want to talk to you.”

The ends of Mikasa’s mouth crinkles, like her jaw tightening, and then she’s walking away. “Are you over your thing already? In case you didn’t notice, I was trying to stay out of your sight.”

She spots Mikasa’s jet black car sitting alone in the corner of the parking lot. Knowing her direction makes it easier to keep ahead of her. “It’s not working. That’s what I want to talk about.”

“Well, you cutting it short by coming here certainly ensures it wouldn’t work.”

Annie’s not sure what sets her off. That Mikasa effortlessly overtakes her with those long legs of hers, or her condescending tone. “Dammit Mikasa! Can you not be infuriating for once?!”

Mikasa stills, her eyes wide, clearly taken aback by the outburst. Annie takes the opportunity to move in between Mikasa and her car, staring right into those steely gray orbs, daring her to keep walking. But Mikasa doesn’t, and she concedes by dropping her gaze.

“All right,” Mikasa exhales heavily. “Let’s talk.”

“Privately.”

She sees an eyebrow twitch, and then Mikasa looks around the empty lot. “There’s no one but us here.”

“Fine. You want me to say it right here? Cause I will. But it’s going to take a while, and if you later regret that we spoke in such an open space, if someone comes around and overhears, that’s on you.”

There’s a flash of something in Mikasa’s expression then. Anger, perhaps? But she seems to think better of it and instead sighs again. Her voice when she speaks, is quiet. “I’ll send you home. Come on. We’ll talk in the car.”

The walk to the vehicle is uncomfortably silent and for the final time, Annie contemplates whether she really wants to push through with this, if it’s worth it, or if she should just leave. Mikasa frustrates her, that is clear. It only takes two sentences before Mikasa is pissing her off. But when she opens the front passenger seat door, she slips in without hesitation because her opinion of Mikasa never mattered. She has always disliked her. Yet she desires her all the same. If she leaves now, the frustration will pass, and she will be left wanting again.

Once in the car, Mikasa doesn’t say anything. She just starts the ignition and begins to drive. She doesn’t prod Annie to start talking, she doesn’t make any indication she’s listening, she doesn’t even seem curious as what Annie wants to say. She just keeps driving. Fast too. The past two times she’s been in Mikasa’s car, Mikasa has been nothing but a conscientious, law abiding driver. Now, she’s toeing the speed limit. Annie has a sinking suspicion it’s because Mikasa has figured out what she wants to say, and is hoping Annie won’t say it. Maybe Mikasa can’t retract the offer of sending her home, but she can make the journey as short as possible. But Annie didn’t come all this way just to lose her steam. She doesn’t need Mikasa’s permission to speak. If she goes home without saying anything, it’s not like the problem will go away. It will only prolong her suffering, and Eren’s. She’s doing this for both their sakes.

“Mikasa.”

Fingers grip the steering wheel.

“Fuck me.”

She knows she could have used better words, made it sound not as crass, but at the end of the day, they all mean the same thing. She picks the one that Mikasa cannot misconstrue. And the reaction is instantaneous. The car veers to the left, exiting off the freeway into an unfamiliar road before Mikasa pulls it over completely to the side, pulling the hand brake up with a creak of force.

“What the hell did you just say?”

The words come out over gritted teeth, but Annie refuses to be cowed. “You heard me.”

Mikasa whirls on her then, full on glare, but Annie can see the confusion from the arch of her eyebrows. “Do you know what you’re saying? You’re dating Eren! My brother.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“Then why would you ask me that?”

“Because I can’t stop thinking of you!” In the small confines of the car, her exclamation bounces off the walls and rattle nerves. She takes a deep breath and undoes her seat belt so she can turn her body to face Mikasa fully. “Look, this giving it time thing, and this distance, it’s not working. I tried, but it’s worse now than it was two weeks ago. I keep thinking of you, even when I’m with Eren. Yesterday, I even dreamt of you and I just—”

Her words stick to her throat as she suddenly realizes just how humiliating it is to be admitting this to Mikasa, and how this must make her look.

“And you think the best solution to this is to ask me to fuck you?” Mikasa replies incredulously. “How does that...? That’s messed up. We don’t even like each other.”

Annie bites her cheek not to flinch because everything Mikasa says is true. “I want you to fuck me. I don’t have to like you for that.”

“Don’t have to—” Mikasa pulls a face, not finishing her sentence, but she turns away before Annie could discern what it is. Disgust? Disbelief? Whatever it was, it is gone when Mikasa heaves a sigh and leans back on her seat. “No. The answer is no.”

She can’t say she expects anything else. So she nods. Swallows hard. “Mikasa,” she calls, and she waits until Mikasa finally rolls her eyes to glance at her. “Please.” She lets her plead sit between the two of them, lets Mikasa see how pathetic she’s been brought down to, lets it loosen the hard line of Mikasa’s jaw, and then she continues. “When I asked you to fight me all those weeks ago, it wasn’t a spur of the moment thing. I’ve been thinking about it ever since Armin told me that you do fight. It was all I could think about. I needed to test myself against you. And then I did. We fought. And after that I stopped thinking about wanting to fight you.”

“Because it turned into wanting to fuck me. That’s when it started, isn’t it? Because you got accidentally aroused?”

Annie blinks, never actually having made that connection. Could it be that’s what it is? A different form of the same desire? “I guess that’s right...but the point is that it went away. I don’t want to fight you anymore. Maybe it’s the same for this.”

“Annie, oh god,” Mikasa groans exasperatedly. “How can I be sure you won’t just want something else after that? And if it you don’t, what if you also don’t stop at once? What if you want more? This isn’t like wanting to fight me, which has nothing to do with your relationship with Eren. But now you want to have sex with me. That’s cheating. You want to cheat on him. And you want me to be accomplice to that! How can you even ask me that?”

Mikasa looks truly horrified as she says her piece and Annie closes her eyes, slumping back against the door because she’s right. She knows it even in her head, but saying it out loud really makes it clear just how wrong all this is. “I know. I had to try. Sorry.”

Mikasa sighs, sounding tired, and then she shifts the gear into Drive. “I’m going to pretend we never had this conversation. Put your seat belt back on.”

“It’s all right,” Annie says quickly, her hand reaching out to grab Mikasa’s wrist on the gear. “I’m breaking up with Eren.”

There’s a huff, exasperation mixed with anger, as Mikasa pushes the gear back to Park and then pulls her hand from Annie’s grip. “What? Why?”

“Do you really think I should stay with him? The way things are right now?”

“You love him. You only want to fuck me. Is it really worth breaking up for?”

“I _like_ him,” Annie corrects, “and I know it’s not fair to be with him like this. He deserves better.”

“He loves you.”

Annie swallows hard. She sees the truth of it in Mikasa’s eyes. Mikasa isn’t bluffing. Which means, Eren told her that. It hasn’t even been a year since they’ve met, and to her, it’s much too early to be saying ‘love’. It’s intimidating. “Then all the more I don’t want to lie to him. I don’t love him. I don’t even think of him anymore. You shouldn’t want him to be with me.”

“But you like him.”

She nods. “I do. I really like being with him, and I want to stay with him, if I can. But I’ve thought about this, Mikasa. There are only three options now,” she says as she looks closely at Mikasa’s expression. Mikasa doesn’t say anything, but there is the slightest nod of acknowledgement. “One, that we continue on like this. Maybe, like you said, in time I will get over this and all will be good. Or maybe, I don’t get over it, and I will start to resent being with Eren. Either way, I can’t do this. I can’t stand it, and I don’t want to hold it in long enough for things to turn sour.” She pauses for breath, and hold up two fingers. “Second, I break up with him. He will be free to find someone better, and I won’t need to pretend anymore.”

Here Mikasa stiffens a little. “Okay. And the third?”

“Third, I tell Eren exactly what is going on. Everything,” she says, watching Mikasa’s eyes grow wide. “And if he still wants me, I will stay with him. But I think we both know what full disclosure will do to the both of you.”

“I didn’t even do anything,” Mikasa hisses.

“I know, it’s all me. But that isn’t going to matter to him, is it?”

Mikasa narrows her eyes and the exasperation dissipates in favor of just anger. It’s the first time Annie has ever seen Mikasa showing this much emotion. But whether Mikasa is angry at her, or the truth of her statement, she doesn’t know.

“I promised you I wouldn’t tell though. So this isn’t an option either. Not unless you allow me to tell,” Annie finishes softly. “So realistically, option two is my only choice.”

“Breaking up with him?”

“Yeah.”

“If that is really your only choice, then why did you ask me to fuck you?”

“That’s an alternative,” she answers slowly, feeling the anger permeating from Mikasa. “Because maybe, maybe, we fuck, and I stop feeling this way. Maybe I’ll be satisfied, or it sucks so much I no longer want it, whatever. Then there won’t be a need for any of those options. We can move on, I’ll stay with Eren, he never needs to know.”

Mikasa makes a disgruntled noise. “But I will always know. And you will always know.”

“That’s fair,” Annie agrees. “and you can refuse as you have. Just know that it leaves me to break up with him, or you to let me tell him what’s going on.”

Mikasa doesn’t reply immediately, but when she finally does, it is preceded by a scoff as her voice loses all of the anger from before and turns to cold fury. “You’re threatening me?”

“No,” Annie bites back. “I am asking you to help me. I don’t want to break up with your brother, Mikasa. But other than this, I don’t see any other options. Do you? I’m all ears. But if you’re just going to tell me to give it more time, like before, then that doesn’t help anybody. Certainly not Eren.”

Mikasa glowers with her teeth bared, as though if she glowers hard enough she could will this situation away. But it’s evident from her lack of response that she knows just as well as Annie, that there are no other options. In the end she turns away to look forward with a huff. “Fuck.”

It’s the first time Annie hears Mikasa curse, and for a while, she feels terrible to have placed Mikasa in this position. Because Mikasa is right. She hasn’t actually done anything to encourage Annie’s desire, but she will suffer the consequences all the same. Annie wonders if Mikasa hates her for this. If she’s sitting there hating her. She hadn't blamed Annie for anything the first they spoke of this, but maybe she does now. Maybe she’s wishing that she never agreed to fight her. Maybe she’s even wishing Annie never met Eren. And she can’t fault Mikasa for wishing all those things. She reaches out to the door lock, manually pushing it open. The click draws Mikasa’s attention.

“Just once, Mikasa. And I promise I won’t mention it again. I will wait until Sunday,” Annie announces, keeping her gaze down to not incur more of Mikasa’s ire. “If your answer remains the same, or if I don’t hear from you I will assume your answer remains the same...then I will break up with Eren. But don’t worry, I won’t tell him why, or at least, I’ll keep you out of it.” And then she wraps her fingers around the handle of the door. “I’ll get home on my own from here. Thanks for the ride so far.”

She makes to pull the handle but the lock clicks shut again before she can. Looking over, she sees Mikasa’s finger on the central control. Mikasa sighs, shifting the gear into Drive and releasing the hand brake.

“I said I’ll send you home. Don’t insult me any further than you have. Just put on your seat belt.”

Annie does. “Right. Sorry.”

Mikasa’s fury doesn’t dampen for the rest of the journey. There are no courtesy goodbyes either as Annie leaves the car. But despite that, despite Mikasa channeling nothing but coldness towards her, she still feels that recognizable warmth in her belly as she watches Mikasa drive away. Then it spreads to her cheeks as she remembers literally asking Mikasa to fuck her. She must be broken somehow. How else could she find it acceptable to do that? The her of six months ago would balk at what she’d just done. But the her of six months ago hadn’t met Mikasa either. So it’s all Mikasa’s fault, really. It’s all Mikasa’s fault.

She doesn’t expect to see Mikasa again. She doesn’t expect Mikasa to change her mind. She doesn’t expect Mikasa to show up on Sunday. She fully expects to have to break up with Eren at the end of the week. Humorlessly, she discovers later that even if Mikasa wants to communicate, they still don’t have each other’s numbers. Or at least, if Mikasa does, she’s not making it known.

So she spends the remaining five days as Eren’s girlfriend by being a good girlfriend. Not that she can say for sure that she knows what that’s like. They’ve only been together a month before she meets Mikasa and everything starts falling apart. But a month is a month. She falls back on that, and the three months before, and does the things they used to do together. Dinner dates, drinks, talking about interesting upcoming matches or fighters. She wonders if he might stop fight classes with her once they break up, so she starts giving him evaluations that he could take with him elsewhere if he wants.

Come Friday, she makes them both take a day off and together, they take a train out of town to the ocean, something he’s been saying he wants to do with her but hasn’t yet. She walks with him hand in hand on the beach, waves and sand between her toes and he talks about his dream of seeing the world. That night, as she stays over at his place for what she thinks is the last time, she focuses on his pleasure. Makes him feel as good as she possibly can. And when she leaves the next morning, kissing him goodbye at the door, she knows she’s going to feel this loss. He grins and waves at her as she walks away, and she commits that to memory.

 

 


	4. it's better than I ever even knew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point, I would like to leave a gentle reminder that this story features infidelity/cheating, and that Mikaani is the end game ship. Thank you and enjoy.
> 
> \--
> 
> Chapter title taken from the song Video Games by Lana Del Rey. However, the version I listen to and discovered the song through is the cover by Silver Swans.

The door opens on Sunday evening to reveal Mikasa. All along her journey here, she convinces herself that there’s no way Mikasa would show, but deep down she knows she hopes the opposite. She wishes. She prays. And here Mikasa is, in the flesh. Mikasa makes no indication anything is amiss, makes no comment on her stunned state, only opening the door wider to let her in.

“Come in. Eren insisted he wants to prepare today’s meal, so we’re in for a treat. Maybe.”

“Hey Annie!” Eren shouts from the kitchen. “Food’s still cooking! So just get comfortable and wait, yeah? Mikasa! Come back here and tell me what to do next!”

Mikasa sighs and disappears into the kitchen, leaving Annie at the door. Annie stands there, confused. She doesn’t know what it means for Mikasa to be here. She plans to break it off today, during dinner, or maybe after, but now she doesn’t know what to do. But even as her mind struggles to keep up, her body has already decided its course as her stomach flips not at the savoury scent of food that wafts into her nose, but at the crisp and curt voice that firmly guides the cooking process.

Things do not become clearer as the night goes on. Mikasa is her usual self, heaping praise on what Eren cooked well, and criticizing what he didn’t. And as much as the pork chop on her plate looks delicious, there are too many butterflies in her belly for her to stomach it properly. But the worst part is no matter how much she observes, Mikasa makes no acknowledgement of their conversation on Tuesday. There is no longer any fury in her eyes, no pointed looks, no whispered words. Absolutely nothing. Does she take that as a no answer? No change of mind? Or is Mikasa’s very presence here supposed to say something? She doesn’t know, and her anxiety over what action to take once the night is over, rises. To stay and talk to Eren? Or leave?

By the time dinner is done and the tables have been cleared she’s not even paying attention anymore. Eren and Mikasa are still seated across her, talking to each other in a mix of German and English. Apparently Mikasa is asking about a modern German slang, probably in relation to her translating job. Not knowing enough German to follow, she looks down at her cup of fruit infusion, a cocktail that Eren made that is more citrus than anything else, and simply listens to the words. German always sounds to her like there’s something in the speaker’s mouth and they’re curling their tongues around it as they speak. As Mikasa repeats a word twice, thrice, Annie lifts her drink and tries not to think of curling tongues.

“Hey Mikasa, you’ll be going home this year too, right?”

Eren reaches for Annie’s hand suddenly from across the table and she looks up surprised, quite sure he is addressing Mikasa and sure enough, he is looking at his sister.

“Yes? Of course. You’re not?”

Eren then turns to Annie, filling her in. “Mikasa goes on a vacation to Japan every year. It’s her hometown. And usually I go with her. So it’s like an annual holiday for us.”

“Right, okay,” Annie nods her understanding even as she’s unsure how this involves her.

“So, we usually go during fall, right?” Eren continues, his gaze first at Mikasa, and then shifting to Annie. “And we met at the end of fall last year, so I was thinking that instead of going with Mikasa, maybe _we_ could go on a vacation together?”

He squeezes her hand and she finds she can’t retract it from his grip. She wonders if he can feel her sweat. “Like an anniversary?”

“Yeah!” he nods eagerly. “Or maybe that’s too early? Should it be the end of winter, when we actually got together? But I don’t know if there are any nice places to go during that season or maybe we could go...”

She tunes out the rest of his words even as she sees his mouth continuing to move, realizing with dismay what her five days of being a good girlfriend has done. He’s thinking of holiday plans together. He’s thinking of anniversaries and celebrations. She’s thinking of of whether to break up today or leave it for another day until Mikasa makes it clear. All those things she had done to give him good memories of their time together, he had taken as a strengthening of their relationship, a reconciliation after the rough patch they had. Clearly, she has gone about this the wrong way. She should have let things be. Then at least he might think that that rough patch never mended. But now? Breaking up with him now would be too cruel.

She feels her hand stiffening in his hold and her mouth goes dry. And then he’s looking at her, grinning at her, and very obviously waiting for her to say something. But she doesn’t know what the question is, if it’s the same first question he asked, or she missed it when she tuned out. In the first place, should she even answer? Should she give him hope of things that would never be? Or would they? She slides her eyes over to Mikasa and for the first time that night, Mikasa returns her gaze with her own deliberate one. And then Mikasa breaks it.

“I think that’s a great idea,” Mikasa says. “I certainly am all right with going home alone.”

He turns. “Yeah? You sure?”

“You never needed to come with me. You wanted to. I’ll be all right on my own.”

“Great. Thanks, Mikasa. So Annie, what do you say?”

His clear green eyes return to her and it feels like she could get lost in them and he’ll see through her. She looks down, briefly glancing at Mikasa, but Mikasa is back to her usual self, and she is left unsure what that deliberate gaze means. What Mikasa saying it’s a great idea for her and Eren to go on an anniversary vacation together means. If it means what she thinks it means.

She clears her throat. “Yeah, that sounds nice. I’ll think about it.”

He smiles the kind of smile that brightens up his entire face, and in that moment, all is good, and she forgets that she has spent the last few hours thinking of how to break his heart in the least painful way. But the reverie doesn’t last, for the night quickly starts to wrap up after that. As Mikasa gathers her things in preparation to leave, Annie is once again beset by the indecision of whether to stay and talk, or to leave it one more day. She freezes at the juncture of the living room and the hallway to the door, and Eren notices.

“Annie? You want to stay over?”

She looks at him, innocently staring back at her, and opens her mouth—

“Didn’t you ask me for a ride home, Annie? Or are you feeling better already?”

—only to snap it back close, eyes widening as she turns to Mikasa in the hallway. They made no such arrangement.

“You’re unwell?” Eren asks, concerned.

“No, I—” she flusters, feeling put on the spot, as she flails between the two. But then she catches Mikasa’s gaze, deliberate once again, and it rushes the air from her lungs. “I have...an upset stomach.”

“Shit, was it my cooking?”

“No,” she replies quickly, as her heart starts to pound because there is no mistaking Mikasa’s meaning now. “It’s been queasy all day. Don’t worry about it.”

She thinks she should feel bad when Eren thanks Mikasa for taking her home, because he cannot know what he has just expressed gratitude for in that moment, but watching Mikasa drive takes all her concentration. Mikasa is back to conscientious driver mode, never looking her way even once despite her own open staring the entire time. There is still a chance that she misunderstood, that this is really just a ride home, but there are no answers or confirmation in Mikasa’s expressionless profile. There is only the arch of her eyebrows, the bridge of her nose, the line of her jaw, all of which she admires without shame. If she never sees Mikasa again, these are also things she wants to commit to memory.

However, when Mikasa pulls up at her apartment and parks instead of simply stopping at the side, when she engages the hand brake and switches off the headlights, when she turns off the ignition and undoes her seat belt, it becomes undoubtedly clear that this is exactly what she thinks it is. But Mikasa doesn’t open the door to get out of the car, and so Annie stays too. She waits. And eventually, Mikasa takes a deep breath that breaks the silence.

“Just once.”

Mikasa isn’t looking at her, but Annie nods anyway. “Just once.”

Mikasa nods as well. “I have a question.”

“Anything.”

“What happens if once is not enough? What happens if six months down the road, you break up with Eren anyway?” Mikasa’s voice is soft, but clear. “Then this would have been for nothing.”

She hasn’t actually thought that far, but surely Mikasa can’t mean that if she does this, it also means that she can never break up with Eren ever. There are all sorts of other reasons why she might want to, like the mismatch of how seriously they’re taking the relationship. That wouldn’t have anything to do with Mikasa. “If I break up with Eren, I promise you that it won’t be because of this.”

Mikasa looks at her from the corner of her eyes. “Can I trust you?”

It’s an accusation and request at the same time. Both warranted, considering the situation. But she doesn’t want to give an guarantees because there are no absolutes. “Just make it suck, Mikasa. Then I won’t want it anymore.”

Mikasa snorts, actually snorts. “That shouldn’t be too difficult. I haven’t been with a woman before. I wouldn’t know what to do.”

She’s still processing what Mikasa says when Mikasa opens the door to step out. And then it hits her. “Wait! You’re not...are you a virgin?”

Subconsciously, she has decided for herself that it’s impossible, because Mikasa is Mikasa. She’s attractive. There’s no way Annie is the only one who thinks so. But somewhere, somehow, she’s made that false connection of attractiveness and sexual experience. Armin even tells her that Mikasa never talks of relationships or expresses interest in anyone. Maybe because there hasn’t been any to talk of. Ever.

Mikasa flashes her a caustic smile. “No.”

After which she’s out of the door and closing it in Annie’s face. Annie heaves a breath, part relief and part nervous energy, and follows after Mikasa. The walk up to her unit is deathly quiet, the sound of their footsteps echoing in the narrow stairway. By the time they reach her door, still no words have passed between them. If anything, Mikasa seems even more reticent, hands in her pockets, scarf pulled up over her mouth, gaze wandering everywhere but on the door. Clenching her fists, Annie withdraws the keys from the lock.

“You don’t have to look like I forced you here.”

Mikasa’s wandering gaze stills, slowly settling on her. “Didn’t you?”

Annie steps back, creating distance between them. There are many things that Mikasa probably has the right to say, but that is definitely not one of them. “No I didn’t. You’re free to leave, Mikasa.”

“And have an upset Eren at my doorstep tomorrow?”

“His happiness is not your responsibility.”

“His unhappiness will be.”

“No,” Annie stresses. “It will be mine. You don’t have to do anything. And if you’re feeling like I forced you, then I don’t want you to do anything either.”

“You want it to suck anyway, right? This will help.”

Annie hesitates, becoming aware of what a bad idea this is, and how far more complicated it actually is from when she first thought of it. But all the same she sees Mikasa’s determination and she knows that Mikasa won’t drop this if her decision at the end of the day is still to break up with Eren. And it still is. So—

“You know you can leave at any time, right?” she says, and then watches as something shifts in Mikasa’s expression, but with the scarf covering her mouth, Annie can’t tell what it is.

“I know. I have my boundaries. Are you going to let me in, or should I say it here?”

Annie lets her in. It takes her two tries with the lock as her fingers tremble but once open she strides inside confidently, trying to pretend she’s not panicking. It even crosses her mind as she passes the kitchen to offer Mikasa a drink, but she quickly banishes the ridiculous thought. That would only makes things more awkward.

Mikasa doesn’t beat around the bush. “Bedroom? Or is that going to weird you out?”

Heat spreads everywhere at the mention of bedroom. She looks instead at the couch in the living room, but it feels too open, and then she looks at the dining table, but it feels too uncomfortable. Then she flushes even further for even considering the dining table. She nods. “Bedroom.”

Mikasa follows her wordlessly into the room and then wastes no time removing her scarf from around her neck. Once done, she folds it carefully and drapes it on the chair by the desk. “Take off your clothes.”

The bluntness shocks her. “What?”

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Mikasa says, crossing her arms as she regards Annie. “You want me to fuck you, so that’s exactly what I’ll do. I will not be taking off any of my clothes, nor will you be touching me. At all. I will not be kissing you either, so don’t try that, and don’t say any names. Those are my boundaries.”

Annie blinks back against the onslaught of information as it crosses her mind again that this is a bad idea. Mikasa making it as impersonal as possible just makes it worse. It feels unnatural. Mechanical. She swallows hard under Mikasa’s harsh gaze and feels herself falter. “Maybe we shouldn’t—”

“If we stop now, it’s not because I refused, but because you did,” Mikasa says, cutting her off. “So I expect you treat it as though I have fucked you, and you don’t break up with Eren. Is that clear?”

She very almost agrees. Between her jitters and her budding arousal, and the sudden shift of power from her to Mikasa, it’s all so disorienting that she just wants it to stop. Before her is Mikasa, behind her is the bed, and she feels trapped between two choices that she wants and doesn’t want at the same time. So she doesn’t know how she notices it in the state that she’s in, but she does notice it. The slight widening of Mikasa’s eyes when she steps back, opening her mouth to agree. Mikasa is expecting her to back down. Mikasa wants her to back down. And she very almost does. This is a challenge, like all their other challenges. The only difference is that this one is not petty taunting or fighting, but sex.

Annie grits her teeth and steels herself. Reaching down to grasp the hem of her hoodie, she lifts it right off and tosses it aside. “Fine. I accept your boundaries. It will help make it suck, right?”

Without the scarf around her neck, Mikasa cannot hide how her throat tightens and her strained gulping. Annie keeps stripping. Pushes down her pants, pulls off her sports bra, methodically removing everything. Everything. She’s not self-conscious of her body in the least and she lets it show. When she’s removed everything, she crawls onto the bed behind her and makes herself comfortable, propping herself up on her elbows. Then she finally looks at Mikasa and throws the challenge back at her.

“Come on then. Fuck me.”

Mikasa has gone laughably stiff that it takes her seconds to even react and when she does, it is only to uncross her arms jerkily as she fidgets on the spot. Annie smirks at the sight, never having seen Mikasa so out of her element, and basks in the knowledge that she put her there. But then Mikasa blinks, breaking their eye contact as those dark orbs travels down the length of her body on display, and another feeling wells up from the pit of her stomach. Mikasa is probably the only person who can make her feel like this, a perfect mix of pissed off and desire. It makes her want to push Mikasa into the bed and fuck her, or maybe, be pushed into the bed herself and fucked.

For all her deer in headlights moment, Mikasa doesn’t back down either and slowly, she approaches the bed, climbs onto it. But she only gets halfway up to Annie before she stills, unmoving, uncertain, though her gaze continues to wander, deliberately scanning every expanse of exposed skin. It makes Annie burn with arousal.

“What’s wrong? Don’t know how to touch me? Surely you know how to masturbate. It’s not that different.” She doesn’t mean to be mocking, but as Mikasa narrows her eyes, evidently that’s how it comes off. Or maybe like her, Mikasa is just easily pissed off by her.

Mikasa rears back, the harsh expression from before replacing all uncertainty. “Get up. On your knees, and face the headboard.”

The note of command is infuriating and arousing. She obeys, languidly sitting up and moving to kneel by the headboard as Mikasa flushes up behind her, whispering in her ear.

“I don’t want to hear anything else but breathing from you from here on. Or the word stop. Do you understand?”

She nods, goosebumps rising from her nape all the way down her spine, and she says nothing more after that. The rough feel of fabric brushing along her back elicits a different kind of tingling as Mikasa shimmies right up against her and at that moment Annie get the sense that Mikasa is literally doing what she suggests, that she’s masturbating herself through Annie. The thought is almost funny but she gasps all the same when warm hands circle around her waist. The touch is tentative only for a second, and then it grows bold, pushing into her flesh, splaying out across her belly. Another thought comes to Annie then. That this is how Mikasa touches herself. Annie grips the headboard as heat shoots straight between her legs at the mental image.

Mikasa chooses that moment to run her fingers down Annie’s hips, tracing the line of her buttocks to the back of her thighs, and then up to graze along her rib cage. Annie gasps a shuddering breath when Mikasa turns back at the swell of her breasts, retracing the route of her hands down, and then up again, and then down again, each turn bringing her hands closer and closer to her pleasure points but never touching them. It is frustrating and stimulating and she relaxes against the persistent touches, lets it build her slowly as she simply feels. She cannot touch Mikasa, she cannot talk to her. So she feels. The press of each finger. The warmth of her palms. The motions of her chest. The heat of her breath. And she imagines. She imagines Mikasa lying down on her own bed, touching herself just like this. She bites her lower lip, feeling herself grow wet with need.

She conveys that need by arching her back when Mikasa’s hands slide up again, almost pushing her breasts into Mikasa’s path. The hands still for a moment, and then Mikasa acquiesces, reaching up to cup her breasts gently. The sensation has her throwing her head back with a sigh, but it quickly turns into an annoyed groan when all Mikasa does is caress her slowly, lightly, and never focusing on her hardened peaks. Frustratedly she huffs, unsure if this is deliberate teasing or just plain inexperience and unsure how to tell Mikasa to just get on with it without being able to touch or speak to her. Just as she’s about to turn her head, needing to see if Mikasa knows what she’s doing, fingers brush against her nipples and she chokes out a cry as they softly roll and tug and pinch, each action sending waves and waves of heat straight down. She needs to get off and she jerks her hips, but there is no purchase so she breathes, hard and fast and laboured and hopes Mikasa gets it.

Mikasa does, hands moving down to her hips before a warm rush of air meets her ear. “Spread your knees.”

She almost says yes at the shivers she gets. Instead, she places a hand on the wall and leans her head onto it as she feels Mikasa’s legs settle on the insides of hers, the rough of her jeans rubbing on the skin of her thigh. But all of that is nothing when fingers dip along her heat, first one, and then two, moving and exploring around her. Groaning at the soft touches, she immediately grinds her hips down on those fingers for more friction, only for Mikasa to draw them away completely. She almost whines at the loss of contact but she gets what Mikasa wants, and she stills her hips to let Mikasa set the pace. The fingers return to her as a reward, finding her clit and rubbing hard circles into it. Pleasure spikes up everywhere from between her legs and Annie pushes her head against her hand, biting her lower lips as she pants through her teeth. Mikasa’s other hand returns to her breast, massaging it in time with the strokes of her fingers, and Annie clenches her fists as a coiling tension builds in the pit of her stomach, driving her closer to the edge.

Annie continues breathing hard and fast, the only way she knows how to say don’t stop, rocking her hips slightly against Mikasa’s fingers, harder when Mikasa doesn’t pull away again, and when Mikasa’s circling speeds up she loses it. She comes with a gasp, body twitching in release as she leans on the wall for support. The hand between her legs retreats but Mikasa repositions the other around her waist, holding her gently through the aftershocks of her orgasm. She heaves several deep breaths, letting her sated body slowly recover from its high, and sits back on her heels. Cold air hits her previously warm back as Mikasa finally removes her hand from her waist and shuffles away.

It’s done. She swallows for steadiness, hearing her own breaths and heartbeat still pounding in her head, and she wonders if she should say something. Or wait until Mikasa says something. Or simply not say anything at all and just let Mikasa leave like this. She doesn’t even know what is appropriate to say. Thank you? You can go now? That was nice? It was nice, but also disappointingly ordinary as well. She’s not exactly sure what she expects. She came, which already makes it better than anything she’s had with Eren for the past two months, but as far as sex goes, this is quite tame. It absolutely feels like masturbation. Is it deliberate? Mikasa is supposed to make it suck after all. She doesn’t think it sucks as it is, but it’s definitely not something she thinks need repeating either. So perhaps it’s working. Perhaps when she wakes up tomorrow morning, this desire will be gone, and she’ll feel stupid for having wanted it and she can finally be with Eren once again. Maybe she should tell Mikasa it sucks. Maybe that’s the right thing to say here.

Making up her mind, she wets her lips to break the silence and then—she feels fingers run down the length of her spine, from nape to lower back—and she startles at the sensation. Instinctively, she wraps her arms around herself as she turns, but what she sees renders her immobile. She recognizes it instantly. It is not an unfamiliar sight, but it is certainly an out of place one. Mikasa’s eyes are dark with desire, and it makes her _throb_. She opens her mouth to speak but Mikasa beats her to it.

“Lie down on your back.”

Like before, it is not a request, but a command. Heat spreads up to her chest, her face, down to tingle her toes, and suddenly the air in the room becomes improbably warm. Questions race around in her head but before any of them could take form, before she could wrap her mind over the fact that this isn’t over, that Mikasa wants to continue, she finds herself already obeying as she settles down on the bed. She stops thinking altogether when Mikasa takes hold of her knees, spreading her legs open and kneeling between them. The sight of Mikasa there staring back at her with her darkened eyes is enough to stagger her breath and tremble her thighs. And then Mikasa slowly begins to trace her fingers up against her skin and she rolls her head backwards into the pillow with a sigh.

She doesn’t know what is going on, she’s not sure Mikasa knows what she’s doing, and she doesn’t care. This feels like a dream, like a fantasy she’s had many times before, except she knows it’s real because in her dreams Mikasa is always wearing less clothes than this. Skin would meet skin and she would burn up in its heat. She wants to burn up. She wants this, so much, and she doesn’t care if it’s a dream or it’s real. It feels like if she says anything, or make any sound, she might wake up or break Mikasa out of this trance. So she closes her eyes, says nothing, and just breathes. Fingers graze her side and she bites her lip not to moan, and just breathes. She breathes and lets Mikasa touch her.

The touches are light, skimming, inquisitive, but the fingers touch her everywhere. Across the plane of her stomach, along the lines of her rib cage, between the valley of her breasts, over the dip of her collarbone, and then outwards to her arms, the crook of her elbows, the inside of her wrists, the tips of her fingers. She doesn’t know how long it continues on like that, it might be five minutes, it might be an hour, but the fingers leave nowhere untouched, nowhere except where she needs it most. But her head is a heady mess of arousal built so slowly, with such faint touches, that it feels like any small amount of pressure will tip her over the edge. And strangely, as the travelling fingers circle out from the insides of her thighs to her hips, avoiding her heat once again, she feels in no rush to get there. She just turns her head and sighs into the pillow as her pleasure grows.

It’s perplexing. She hasn’t had sex like this before, she hadn’t even known sex could be like this. Sex where she’s so unconcerned about finishing. Sex that feels so good orgasm is just a bonus. Because isn’t that the point of sex? To get off? That has always been her standard for successful sex, a goal to reach, a goal she always chased. But this, here, now, with those fingers titillating her into a quivering mess, with no sign that all this touching is going to lead to a release, this is different. She gets the sense that somebody has said something about this to her before, something about sex, but thinking is difficult right now and with a sudden brush against a nipple she loses that train of thought completely, focusing entirely on the gentle thumbing of her stiffened peak. She gasps, fingers curling into the sheets and then she pants when nails lightly scratches her hipbone. The touches feel stronger now, more insistent, more focused, and it seems to promise an end.

The hand on her hip slipping between her legs is the first indication of the fulfillment of that promise, a move she almost doesn’t feel over the other hand on her breast still unceasingly thumbing her nipple, making her head swim with a constant stream of pleasure. It takes all of her not to cry out, not to beg please, when a single finger presses against her clit lightly. She bucks her hips up towards the touch, almost whining when the finger instead slides lower, tracing along where she’s hot and wet and slick with her own arousal. The hand on her breast moves down to grip her thigh, really grip her thigh, clenching down with all five fingers and she snaps her eyes open because that’s unusual. That’s not touching. That’s attention grabbing.

She sees the familiar shadows of her curtains on the ceiling first, and then she hears her own ragged breathing, her heartbeat pounding in her head. Fingers clench around her thigh, and she looks down. Mikasa looks back at her, watching her, her eyes dark, lips parted, and cheeks slightly flushed. She doesn’t think it possible to get even more aroused, but she is. She is, because this is real and not a dream. Mikasa is really here touching her everywhere and driving her to insane levels of arousal and she feels her legs shake when the finger on her slit reminds her of its presence with the slightest push.

“Can I?”

It is ridiculous to even ask. Yes, yes, she wants to say. She wants to pull Mikasa into her, wants to grind their bodies together, wants to feel Mikasa’s naked skin with her own, wants to kiss her until they are both dizzy with need. She wants to cross all of Mikasa’s boundaries but she doesn’t and can only nod vigorously at the watchful eyes. The finger slips in all the way before she completes her third nod. She throws her head back, biting her lip to stifle her moan when the second finger slips in just as easily because of how wet she is. The fingers wriggle inside her, stretching out her walls, tentatively moving in and out, and she struggles to keep herself still and not thrust back into those digits. But all that is for naught when Mikasa finds that spot within her that has her hips bucking up involuntarily. She lets out a strangled cry and arches her back at the burst of pleasure.

Mikasa stills instantly, long enough for Annie to raise her head to look questioningly at her, and then while staring right at her, Mikasa finds that spot again and rubs. Her hips jerk once more with another cry as she feels her inner muscles clenching slightly, needing release. It doesn’t go unnoticed as Mikasa looks down, eyes widening with a sharp inhale, and then her other hand comes to rest on Annie’s pelvis, keeping her grounded as her fingers begin to work her earnestly now. Mikasa alternates her strokes, rubbing that spot once for every five thrusts, and it is so tortuously slow that Annie doesn’t know if she’s twisting her body towards or away from the touch. Reaching up to grasp the pillow with both hands, she presses her face into it as she pants and moans, feeling herself getting close but not close enough. Legs trembling from being kept open so long, body quivering from being at the edge of release, she musters whatever strength is left and pushes back against Mikasa, praying that Mikasa just lets her finish.

Mikasa matches her pace, following along with her thrusts, pushing her nearer and nearer to the edge and just as she feels the cusp of her orgasm, Mikasa’s hand on her pelvis shifts lower to slide a thumb into her folds and press against her clit as the fingers inside her start to rub that spot incessantly. Stars invade her vision, blinding her with their brightness as her body spasms with the force of her climax. She feels all her muscles clenching, feels Mikasa’s fingers still within, still moving, and she hears herself cry out as she squeezes the pillow in her arms. Everything else dims out after that as a lightheadedness spreads over her until all she can sense is her own heart beat, racing to keep up with the reactions of her body, but gradually getting slower with each breath she takes.

What brings her back is the sensation of gentle pressure on her thigh, massaging the numbness out of it. She starts to feel chilly, realizing suddenly that she’s sweaty, and then finally she looks down at the hand on her thigh. It is the one that was previously on her pelvis while the other, she swallows with abrupt realization, the other is lightly stroking along her clit with fingers still slick with her wetness. She shivers with pleasure and sensitivity. Maybe it was to draw out her orgasm but now it is too much, so she squirms with a grunt and Mikasa withdraws. She withdraws everything, even shuffling back to allow for the closing of Annie’s legs. And then she simply sits there unmoving as Annie looks at her, and she looks back at Annie. If it was awkward before, after the first orgasm, it’s even worse now. Are they even done? Or it Mikasa going to want to go again? She tries to focus on Mikasa’s face, tries to read anything there, but her mind is such a haze of euphoria that nothing seems to matter but her bliss.

She does notice however when the glint in Mikasa’s eyes changes from dark desire to clear intention and then Mikasa gets up and off the bed. Wordlessly, Mikasa walks over to the adjoining bathroom where she hears the tap turning on. Annie rolls onto her side to watch Mikasa, pulling her legs up to a fetal position, and wonders if they should say something to each other, if she should get out of bed as well. But her body is so liquid, so sated, that she doesn’t feel like moving at all. Moving would cut short her euphoria, and she wants to enjoy that for just a while longer. Footsteps soon pad back into the bedroom and then Mikasa is grabbing her scarf from the chair, carefully placing it around her neck and wrapping it around with practiced motions.

“Annie.”

Her name. No names, that is one of Mikasa’s boundaries. If she’s breaking it, that means it’s well and truly done. Annie flicks her gaze from Mikasa’s hands to her face, but Mikasa isn’t looking at her.

“You should get up to lock the door,” Mikasa says, fixing the last of her scarf, and then glancing down at her.

She nods. That’s all she can manage at this point. Mikasa doesn’t linger any longer after that, quickly making her exit but she gets as far as the bedroom door when Annie calls out.

“Mikasa.”

Mikasa stops and turns her head slightly. The ‘thank you’ is on the tip of her tongue when Annie bites it back, suddenly realizing that Mikasa might find it insulting to be thanked after what they just did. So she swallows the gratitude and finds the digital clock on the desk. It’s past twelve a.m. already.

“Careful on your way home.”

She sees Mikasa nod as well and then she’s gone beyond the doorway. The sound of the front door opening and closing seconds later is the last trace of Mikasa’s presence before silence descends in the apartment. She sighs, knowing full well that she should get up to lock the door as Mikasa said, but she’s so relaxed that she can’t bring herself to care. She’s never felt this sort of orgasmic bliss before, and somehow, she doesn’t think she might ever feel it again either. And then it comes to her, that thing she has been thinking about before pleasure distracted her. That thing someone said about sex. Fantastic sex. And how she’ll know when it happens. In the quiet of the night, she hears the distant rumble of a car’s ignition coming to life and somehow she knows who it belongs to. And that’s not all she knows. Her body hums contentedly.

“Fuck.”

Why does it have to be Mikasa?

She wakes up the next morning to the ringing of her phone. Inhaling deeply, she stares up at the ceiling, unsure if she’s dreaming or reliving memories of dark eyes and a hand between her legs but strangely, it isn’t leaving her feeling aroused as it usually does. It just feels nice. And she’s ignoring her phone. She twists her body to grab the device off the bedside table, quickly swiping to answer before the ringing ends.

“Hello?” Her voice is thick with sleep.

_“Did I wake you?”_

Eren. She smiles, his too-cheerful-for-the-morning voice somehow being just what she wants to hear right now. “Yes. What time is it?”

 _“Too early, apparently,”_ he laughs, and the sound is incredibly melodious. _“Anyway, now that you’re up, I was thinking I could bring breakfast over and we could eat together. If that’s_ _a_ _ll right with you?”_

That gets her attention. She springs up to a sitting position, inhaling deeply once again. The room smells like sex. She pulled on a fresh shirt and shorts after locking the door, but she’s pretty sure she smells like sex too. And not sex with him. “Oh, sure. Give me some time to get out of bed though?”

 _“No problem,”_ he replies. _“It’ll take me about fifteen minutes to get there anyway.”_

She scrambles out of bed and into the shower immediately after hanging up. Then she takes all her clothes, the ones she wore last night and to bed, as well she her bed sheets, and chucks them into the bathroom for washing later. Finally, to be extra safe, she closes the bedroom door, something she doesn’t usually do. It’s not likely that Eren will want to do anything but have breakfast together, and she can say no anyway, but it gives her peace of mind. Eren arrives a little over fifteen minutes later, and she answers the door with a towel around her neck, still drying her hair.

“Good morning,” he greets, grinning with a raised brow when he sees her. “I was expecting ‘get out of bed’ to be brushing your teeth, not full on shower.”

She pulls him inside. “Morning. Are you calling me lazy?”

He grins wider, and then lifts the box he’s carrying with his right hand. “I brought your favorite, and I’m dying to have one of your extra black coffees.”

“You hate my extra black coffees.”

“It’s perfect with extra sweet doughnuts.”

She takes the box of doughnuts from him with a hum, already looking forward to the sugary confectioneries melting in her mouth, and then she leans up to meet his kiss halfway. He means it to be chaste, already pulling back after the briefest contact, but she chases, grabbing onto the front of his shirt to deepen the kiss. Instantly he wraps an arm around her waist and eagerly kisses back. He has another raised brow when she finally lets go of his shirt.

“That’s thanks for the doughnuts.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annie's love for doughnuts (and yes, I know depending on where you're from it may be donuts, but it's doughnuts for me) is a nod to the Lost Girls spin-off series. I ship Mikasa quite liberally with others, but there's only two Annie ships I actively ship. Mikaani and AnniexDoughnuts.


	5. what a wicked game you played to make me feel this way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reiner and Bertholdt's restaurant is finally named in this chapter, so many thanks to those who have given suggestions. So firstly, credits to the names that appear in the chapter. Many, many thanks!  
> -Reiner's Diner by TheAngryBro  
> -Flor de loto by An Unnamed Guest reviewer  
> -Titan's Hunger (changed to Hungry Titans) and L'ourson qui boit by Akawi
> 
> \--
> 
> Chapter title taken from Wicked Game by Chris Isaak.

It surprises her how easy it is for her to fall back into old patterns with Eren and how not guilty she feels about it. There’s a twinge of it when she’s washing her sheets and clothes clean of her wrongdoing but while there with Eren? She only feels nice. She’s happy to see him. Happy to spend time with him. Is it even wrongdoing when in the first place she did it in order to stay with him? Is it wrongdoing when it seems to have worked? She still dreams of Mikasa, and sometimes she’s reminded of Mikasa while lying down on her bed in the quiet of the night, but those thoughts are no longer accompanied by the burning desire from before. How else does she explain it other than the fucking worked? That itself is strange. She doesn’t actually expect it to work, especially when it hadn’t sucked, like she thinks it should. She almost expects herself to want more. But in place of that burning desire is only a tranquil longing, always there, but easy to ignore.

“Do you think Mikasa’s being a little strange lately?”

Eren asks this as they are wrapped together on his couch, enjoying another after dinner movie on a Sunday night. She lifts her head from his chest to look at him, wondering if this had been on his mind ever since they sat down for the movie as he had been keeping the volume on low from the start. He senses her movement and adjusts accordingly, looking down at her as well with a small smile.

“I don’t know why I’m asking you though. It’s not like you know her very well.”

She reads the concern in his face. He’s concerned enough about Mikasa to ask someone he knows can’t answer him in any substantial way. And it pricks her insides with guilt because she knows she partially responsible for this situation. Because of course, Mikasa doesn’t show up. Again. Although this time she tells it early enough that Eren manages to get some take-out. The reason she gives is that she’s giving extra tutoring classes to one of her students who is going to face a major exam soon. And so she won’t be available for the next three Sunday evenings at the least. It could be true, but Annie has a sinking feeling that if not for her, Mikasa wouldn’t have said yes to extra classes.

“You should ask Armin,” she replies at length. “Why do you think she’s being strange?”

He shrugs, and then he straightens. “It’s just, she never used to miss our Sunday dinners. Never too busy, never away, never too sick even. Had to force her to sleep over a couple of times because I couldn’t let her drive home with a high fever. But now, she’s missed it three times in the past few months, and she’s going to miss another two or three, who knows.”

She wonders if he’s made the connection, that Mikasa’s absence only started after she entered the picture. Maybe she should be the one who stops coming over. After all, the Sunday dinners are a tradition for them that she has intruded upon, and now Mikasa is the one having to break it just to avoid her. She had considered not coming over today, but eventually her selfish reasoning wins out and she shows up. Because she wants to test herself with Mikasa, to see if she would feel nothing upon seeing her, or if all the burning desire would come crashing back. Perhaps it is a good thing that Mikasa made her own decision regarding that, but Annie isn’t sure if it is disappointment or relief she feels more keenly.

“I guess I never thought I’d miss how clingy she is. Or was, it seems.”

He says it casually, like he’s pretending to not be as affected as he actually is, and it makes her guilt flare up even more. She leans into him, hoping to offer some physical comfort, because that’s the only thing she can. It certainly doesn’t hurt that he’s nice and warm, and nice to cuddle with.

“It’s because I’m here.”

“What? Is this the whole she doesn’t like you thing?” he asks, wrapping his arms around her and kissing the top of her head. “She doesn’t dislike you. Trust me, I can read her pretty well.”

She has to smile at his attempts to reassure her but she says nothing in return because he cannot know how much truth she has just spoken that he is simply brushing aside. She wonders if he ever will know. It’s a depressing thought so she pulls his arm tighter around herself and snuggles into him. The cuddling quickly leads to more and by the time they’re fumbling into bed, she realizes that it’s the first time since Mikasa that she’s being intimate with him, and exactly seven days later. There’s a certain anticipation but also trepidation over how it would play out. Would she be able to enjoy it like she used to now that her curiosity about Mikasa has been sated? Or would the situation persist, or even been made worse with what she’s done?

Perhaps sensing her uneasiness, he tries to steer them into simply cuddling but she pushes forward. Not only for him, but to know for herself. Unhappily, for all she wants him to be enough, she finds it is the second, and it isn’t long before she is bringing Mikasa to mind. Again, it surprises her that she doesn’t feel as guilty as she thinks she should, even with the added layer of it not being mere fantasies, but actual memories. She recalls Mikasa touching her, spreading her legs, fingers inside her, and it tips her over the edge even though it is Eren’s tongue on her clit. At that moment of meeting his green eyes looking up at her, it even crosses her mind what it would be like if Mikasa uses her mouth. And then she feels warm all over again. She pulls him up over her, into her, kisses him deeply, and tells herself it’s all right. There is more than one way to be with someone, and she is definitely with Eren in all those other ways. Mikasa is physical. Mikasa is only physical.

She tells him on Tuesday of the next week that she won’t be coming over on Sunday, hopefully early enough that Mikasa might hear of it, and thus possibly, Mikasa might go over. It would give them much needed family time without her there. She figures she has probably taken too much of those. Maybe it wouldn’t make a difference if Mikasa is telling the truth about her tutoring commitments, but even so. Maybe she is the one who needs some time away. So instead she goes over to Reiner’s Diner on Sunday evening, feeling like it’s been a while since she’s seen them. Despite the name, the place is jointly owned by Reiner and Bertholdt, but Bertholdt registered the name behind Reiner's back because all of Reiner's suggestions had been bizarre, to say the least. Flor de loto, L'ourson qui boit, Hungry Titans, The Motherland, among others. While Reiner had been upset for a bit, ultimately Annie thinks Bertholdt made the right decision.

It’s a busy hour, but Bertholdt brightens and finds her a table and moments later, Reiner comes out of the kitchen to see her. “Annie! On a Sunday evening no less! To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Shut up,” she shoots back, lightly smacking his burly arm. “You’re packed. I guess the summer menu is well received?”

He replies by ruffling her hair, then quickly stepping away with a chuckle before she could smack him again. “No thanks to your ‘It’s great’s’. Order anything you want. On the house.”

He returns promptly to the kitchen because it is a busy hour, so she settles herself down for a quiet dinner only to have Bertholdt personally serve her food when it arrives, drawing a few looks from the other patrons. Bertholdt talks to her like she’s a high class customer instead of a friend and it makes her laugh at the formality. Once done, she vacates the table for new customers and joins Bertholdt behind the counter. He’s too occupied to entertain her much, but she enjoys being there anyway, remembering a time she used to come here more often. When the crowds finally begins to thin nearing closing time, Reiner takes advantage of the lull to come out and talk. Bertholdt doesn’t leave the counter, but he’s close enough to hear them.

“So, what really brought you here?”

She raises an eyebrow at him. “Free food?”

“Don’t you eat free at Eren’s place too? Come on, out with it. Real reason.”

Seeing a scrunched up paper ball on the counter, she takes it and launches it at Reiner’s head. “I came here to see you two assholes, all right? Don’t force me to be mushy. And try your summer menu.”

Reiner laughs heartily as the ball simply bounces off his forehead and from the corner of her eyes, she catches Bertholdt sporting an equally wide smile. “Embrace your inner mushiness! So, how was the food?”

“The broccoli is a weird combination, doesn’t seem to go well with the rest of the plate, although I guess it does seem...summery.”

“See!” Reiner snaps his fingers. “That’s what I wanted from you before I finalized the menu. You’re telling me this now?”

She smiles helplessly at him and shrugs. It hits her suddenly that she’s not sure herself when food got its flavour back. At one point it really seemed that everything tasted bland. When did that go away? She tries to think back, and then she remembers spicy broth ramen, how it had been delicious.

“Seems like you’re back to your usual self now,” Reiner comments, although he says it slowly. Cautiously. “Everything okay?”

She nods. “Yeah. You were right. I came to tell you that.”

“Of course I am,” he says first with a grin. “About what?”

For a moment she considers dropping it there. She doesn’t want to stroke his ego further, nor does she want to leave trails that may later get her into trouble. But this is vague enough. “Fantastic sex.”

A sly grin immediately takes hold of his features as he snickers. “Oho, so you managed to whip Eren into shape?”

She drops her gaze, pretends it’s from embarrassment and not guilt, and nods. “Yeah.”

He doesn’t notice as he guffaws, but a pointed look from Bertholdt has him calming down instantly. There are still customers in the shop after all. So instead he musters his most brotherly look, which she finds really annoying actually, and gazes at her with praise.

“Did you know immediately?”

This time she doesn’t need to lie. “Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

Later as she sits outside the restaurant waiting for them to close up, she ponders on whether she really did know immediately. Saying that means she knew from the moment Mikasa’s hands circled around her waist for that first tentative touch, but that’s not right. She didn’t think it was anything amazing. So was it the last touch then? Mikasa’s fingers, slick with Annie’s own arousal, gently stroking her clit? Was it when she came the second time? Or the first? Was it when Mikasa touched her everywhere? When she whispered commands into her ear? Or was it when everything was over, as she lay in bed, feeling like all her muscles were jelly? Feeling like she was completely and utterly sated? Feeling like she would never feel that way again?

Lifting her head from where it is resting against her knees, she turns to look across the bench where Bertholdt sits silently. She hugs her knees tighter, knows that Reiner won’t like that she put her feet up on the bench meant for waiting customers, but it’s after hours and he’s not here right now. There’s only Bertholdt, banished from closing up duty because he had been manning the counter all night and hadn’t had a chance to talk to Annie yet. Despite that though, Bertholdt is quiet by nature, and even as he sits there with her and catches her look, all he does is smile at her. She doesn’t know what compels her to speak. Maybe it’s the smile, how it makes him seem so shy and unassuming, like he can keep a secret. Maybe she needs to tell someone. Maybe she needs someone to absolve her, or to judge her.

“It’s not Eren.”

It’s clear the lack of context leaves him puzzled. “What’s not Eren?”

“The person I had fantastic sex with,” she confesses, seeing his eyes widen with every word. “It’s not Eren.”

“Oh.” He looks back at her, but she knows he gets it. All of it. He’s astute like that. “Oh”

“Don’t tell anyone?”

He nods jerkily, making a noise of assent, but says nothing. She faces forward once again, resting her chin on her knees. Oh is not quite the reaction she wants, but she’s not sure herself what reaction she expects. At the very least, she trusts him not to talk. From her periphery, she sees him looking forward too and then they sit in silence, as though she hadn’t just told him she has had sex with someone not her boyfriend. And then Bertholdt clears his throat.

“Well,” he starts, “do you like that person?”

That person. She thinks about that person and immediately her body reacts, tingling in all the right places, growing warm down below. But there is also another feeling, this one originating from up above. Frustration. Because that person is always pissing her off. She shakes her head. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Are you still with Eren?” he ventures.

“Yes.”

He nods. “Then are you planning to stay with him still?”

“Yes.”

“So it was a one time thing?”

She nods, the action impeded by her knees. “Yeah. But it was good.”

He visibly relaxes and she doesn’t hold it against him. No one would want to be in the unenviable position of being the first to know about an impending break-up. But then he smiles, supportive, and inches closer to her.

“What did you like about it?”

She frowns, glancing at him. That question seems more Reiner than Bertholdt. “The sex?”

He makes a noise of affirmation. “Do you know what made it fantastic?”

She shrugs. “No?” She had been thinking about it just before, and no, she couldn’t figure out the answer. “It seemed as though it would be hard and rough, I expected it to be hard and rough but it was actually...really gentle? Really slow and...really thorough, or something. I don’t know.”

He chuckles almost helplessly. “You don’t have to describe it. I just meant to say that if you know what was good about that sex, what you enjoyed about it that is different than what you have with Eren, then why not simply do what you did with that person, with Eren? Then you can have fantastic sex with Eren too.”

Bertholdt is a genius. She makes sure to tell him that. And to remind him not to tell anyone what she just revealed. She can’t believe she never thought of what he said. If it is just sex, if it really is just physical and nothing to do with Mikasa herself, then if she imitates the sex, if she gets Eren to do what Mikasa did, then there’s no reason she shouldn’t enjoy it the same. That only makes sense. Yet, there is always the possibility she doesn’t, and she doesn’t even want to think about what it means if the opposite happens instead. But she tries it anyway the next time she finds herself in bed with Eren. As usual, he is eager to get going, but a pacifying hand on his chest is enough to calm him down.

“Let’s try something different today.”

He agrees easily, so she lies down, takes his hands and places them on her body, and then presses them lightly to stop their wandering.

“Let’s take it slow? Just touch me, slowly. Build me up slowly. Take our time.”

To his credit, he does try. He follows her lead, touching her lightly, slowly, but too soon his eagerness shows itself to be impatience and his touch turns from pleasing to stimulating as he focuses on areas he knows would excite her. It’s too fast and she has to catch herself before she starts comparing. Hiding her strained huff, she instead flips them over and pushes him down onto the bed.

“Not like that. Let me show you. Just relax.”

She goes to work immediately once he does, touching him like how Mikasa touched her. For a while it is nice, as she, for the first time, really learns his body. All the little bumps and scars, all the uneven skin tones and moles, all the places that leaves him breathless or ticklish. But just as she is about to move on to his lower half, his impatience rears its head again.

“Um, Annie? This is really nice and all, but is this going anywhere?”

She sighs into his stomach, masking the action with a light nip. She knows it isn’t his fault it’s not working out. She can see that he’s trying. It’s simply that they’ve never had sex like this before. It’s too slow. Their sex is usually fast, urgent, getting each other off and then chasing their own release. This, long periods of teasing or whatever Mikasa thought it was when she did it, is simply non-existent in their sex life. That doesn’t mean this failed of course. Maybe she’s forcing it too much. Maybe they should try again. Maybe in time they could come to enjoy it. But somehow she doesn’t believe so. The feeling is completely different with Eren, and that’s not something time can cultivate.

Looking down, she reaches for his half hard cock. “Yes, it’s going here.”

And then she blows him. When he returns the favor after, she gives up entirely in trying to focus on him and unabashedly thinks of Mikasa. Of warm, wet fingers lazily stroking her clit. And she comes to that thought.

“Hey Annie?”

If there’s one thing she likes best about being in a relationship with Eren, it’s the cuddling. Sex with Mikasa may have been fantastic, but there’s definitely an emptiness when Mikasa left right after. That’s what Eren is for. Warm, after sex cuddles. She hums at him.

“Remember what you said that time, about Mikasa not liking you? That she’s not coming around because you’re here?”

She almost snorts at his choice of post-coital conversation topics. The irony. “What about it?”

“Well, I mentioned to her on Friday when she called that you weren’t coming last Sunday, and guess what? She showed up. So maybe you’re right about that.”

She considers his words, surprised that her ploy actually worked. “See? I told you from the start.”

“Yeah, sorry,” he apologizes, planting a kiss on the top of her head. And then he scoots back far enough that they can see each other’s faces. “But it can’t go on like this. She’s my sister and you’re my girlfriend. As long as we’re together it’s inevitable that you both are going to see much more of each other. Do you dislike her?”

“I—No...” she trails off as that inexplicable feeling regarding Mikasa surfaces once more. She swallows, wishing her face was still nestled in the crook of his neck instead of exposed to his scrutiny. At least the room is dark. Turning her head into the pillow, she hopes he reads it as frustration. “She pisses me off sometimes.”

He chuckles. “I know what you mean.” Thankfully, he is concentrating more on her words than her expressions. “Still, I think both of you should get along. I want to help you both get along.”

“I don’t think that—”

“So let’s go on an excursion! All of us. Spend some time together doing things. That’s always a great way to bond.”

“...What?”

“An excursion!” he repeats, grinning. “To the beach we went to before. Let’s have a picnic by the beach. This Sunday. I’ve spoken to Mikasa already, and she’s agreed. She still has her tutoring in the evening, but we can totally have a half day picnic. What do you think? I’ll call Armin too, for buffer. And you can invite Reiner and Bertholdt too, if you want.”

When he gets like that, talking as though she already agreed, she finds it hard to decline. And really, she shouldn’t have a reason to decline. He’s doing this for her, with all the best intentions, even if she doesn’t think it’s needed. But perhaps if it’s a chance to see Mikasa, to stop Mikasa’s avoidance of her, then she should take it. And he’s right that they’re going to have to see each other again at some point. Might as well be under the guise of a friendly excursion. So she nods.

“Okay, I can’t see the harm.”

“Great! I’ll tell Armin. And how about Reiner and Bertholdt? Think you want them along?”

It’s probably a good idea to have more buffer like Armin. It would help the both of them interact more normally if there are so many others around. But as she thinks of her two friends, she recalls the conversation she had with Bertholdt outside the restaurant. She had been careful with details, never mentioning any who, when, or where. She never even mentions gender. But he’s astute. If at any point she behaves weirdly with Mikasa, or Mikasa behaves weirdly with her, she’s almost sure he’ll figure it out. And since this would be the first time they’re seeing each other after what happened, she can’t risk it.

“No,” she shakes her head, snuggling back into his warmth. “They’ll have to close the restaurant for the day to join us. I think just us four is fine.”

But her nervousness grows as the day of the excursion draws close and she realizes with a start on Saturday morning that her concern about Bertholdt finding out is rather short sighted. Because it’s not just him. Eren and Armin are there too, and they’ve known Mikasa forever. Armin is a rather sharp fellow as well, like Bertholdt. Perhaps it is better for her and Mikasa to meet with just the two of them first. Make sure they won’t act strangely. But it’s too late to do that now. She has to trust in her own ability to poker face and be indifferent towards Mikasa, as well as Mikasa’s ability to do the same. After all, Mikasa has the stronger motivation to keep things under wraps. She can at least trust that Mikasa won’t jeopardize herself.

When the next morning rolls around, she’s surprised to find that they’re not all going together in one car. Instead, Eren shows up to take her via train, like they did before. His reasoning that Mikasa doesn’t engage much when she’s driving doesn’t quite hold water when she’s had conversations with a driving Mikasa, but he’s not supposed to know that. So she follows along with his plan, glad for the extra time it give her to settle the queasiness in her stomach. She talks to him all along the journey to distract herself and to get herself into girlfriend mode, to focus on him, but that’s difficult when he is instead talking about how he’ll create opportunities for her and Mikasa to interact. By the time they reach the beach, she’s bouncing excuses in her head to turn and leave but the sight of Mikasa’s car next to their picnic spot locks her knees.

“Mikasa! Armin! We’re here!” Eren announces, tugging her forward with their joined hands.

Mikasa peeks up from where she was hidden on the other side of the car as the boot pops open and Armin appears from the driver’s seat. He instantly waves. “Hey! Great timing. We just arrived as well. Come on, let’s get things set up.”

Eren needs no further prompting, quickly trotting ahead to help Armin get the stuff out of the car. Annie continues approaching at her own pace, each step smaller especially when Mikasa stays by the car even as the other two crosses into the sandy area to lay out the mat. Mikasa’s stare, when she finally meets it, is markedly long. She doesn’t break it. She doesn’t dare to, even as it reminds her of that liquid feeling in her body.

“Annie,” Mikasa greets. “Hey. It’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” she replies, though her eyes slide over to the sandy area where Eren and Armin are, out of earshot. There is no need for pretend civility. Unless this isn’t a pretense, but rather, Mikasa establishing how she wants, how she expects, them to be like from here on. And that’s fair enough.

“Help carry?” Mikasa asks, gesturing at the various things still in the boot.

Annie nods readily. “Yeah, of course.”

She determines not to think too much. Mikasa is her usual self, as always, so all she needs to do is be her usual self too. The rest of the day goes remarkably well from there. There is no awkward tension to speak of, no pointed glares or veiled words, and with Armin as the buffer, they almost never need to talk directly to each other. Even when Eren rears his machinations, dragging an unsuspecting and clearly not part of it Armin along, it doesn’t leave her feeling stranded. She’s relaxed enough to be able to just stretch out on the mat, stuffing herself with delicious homemade sandwiches, while Mikasa records with her phone two grown men making sandcastles.

Before long, the time to leave comes around and as Mikasa prepares to pack everything up, Eren once again pulls Armin away, although this time there is a legitimate reason. Sometime after having built their sandcastle, they had found themselves splashing around in the water, which quickly turned into roughhousing. Mikasa ran down to the water line then, almost as though she was going to join them, but apparently it was only to pull them out and chastise them for getting their clothes wet. They’re all going back by car it seems, and there’s no way Mikasa is letting seawater soaked and dried clothes touch her car seats.

“So, Armin and I will go dispose of the rubbish,” Eren says, picking up the bag of trash. “We’ll also go get a shower and see if the shop have some clothes we can get, so we won’t ruin your precious car seats.” Mikasa rolls her eyes at the jeer and Eren laughs. “Be back soon. I’ll get some ice-creams too!”

Then Eren winks at her, flashing a discreet thumbs up. Because this is another of his machinations. She wonders, watching him walk away with Armin, if he’s aware what he’s enabling. Like that time he thanks Mikasa for sending her home, unaware of what that led to. Although, considering that he is unaware, technically he’s not enabling either. It is simply that this feels less like a get along with boyfriend’s sister better situation and more like a matchmaking friend with sister situation. And that’s wrong on so many levels she doesn’t know where to start. She glances at Mikasa, still quietly packing up their unfinished food. Then, as though Eren’s departure is some sort of license to stray, she lets her gaze wander over Mikasa’s form, at the hint of collarbone under her summer dress, at the hands and fingers deftly moving things around. She feels the telltale warmth.

“Are you planning to help pack, or are you just going to stare at me?”

Mikasa’s knowing gaze meets her own. Apparently, Mikasa senses the shift too, and the pretense has now been dropped. Annie promptly picks up one of the packed boxes and stands up, heading towards the car. Mikasa remotely pops the boot.

“You know what Eren is doing?” she asks when Mikasa joins her with another box.

“He’s not very good at this,” Mikasa replies, placing the box next to Annie’s.

“Yet you agreed to come?”

Mikasa sighs, lowering the lid but not closing it. “And how long do you want me to keep this up? I can’t avoid the wedding, can I? Let’s not drag this out longer than it needs to be.”

Annie frowns instantly. “You’re thinking a bit far.”

“Honestly? I didn’t think you’d still be Eren’s girlfriend right now,” Mikasa says disbelievingly as she heads back to the picnic mat. “I didn’t think it was actually going to work. I was convinced you were going to break up with him anyway. Maybe not immediately, but at some point. I suppose I was wrong. He seems happier than ever, and he tells me things are going well.”

“Does he make it a habit to report the status of his relationships to you?”

“I asked.”

“If you didn’t believe I would uphold my end then why did you do it?”

Mikasa reaches down to grab the mat, beginning to fold it. “If you were going to break up with him anyway, I might as well try. And it worked, didn’t it?”

Annie doesn’t bother helping as she stands aside and crosses her arms. “Why does it matter so much to you that Eren and I remain together?”

Mikasa stops, holding up the half folded mat. “Because he loves you.”

There it is again. The proclamation that Eren loves her. Now that she thinks about it, what Mikasa said about wedding, was that something Eren mentioned too and not simply a mocking statement? She sucks in a breath. It’s too fast and too intense and she doesn’t want to think about it.

“I still think about you.”

The edge of the mat slips from Mikasa’s fingers but she quickly catches it, and carries on like nothing happened. Mikasa doesn’t acknowledge her words, but her reaction is enough, and it stokes the fire. Annie follows when Mikasa walks to the car.

“I still can’t come when I have sex with him, and I think of you. Except now I don’t have to fantasize, I just remember how you actually touched me.”

Mikasa tosses the mat into the boot and slams the lid shut. “Why on earth are you telling me this?”

“Because you’re under the impression it worked. I’m staying with Eren because we had a deal, not because you managed to fuck the desire out of me. And I’m not about to insult you by leaving Eren right after making you do that.”

“Well thanks,” Mikasa scoffs, moving to walk away from Annie.

Annie darts around to cut her off. “Do it again.”

“What?”

“Fuck me again.”

Mikasa actually looks like she’s reeling. Her eyes dart around and it serves as a reminder that they are in a public space. She hopes she hadn’t said that too loudy but as she looks around herself, she doesn’t see anyone close enough to overhear them. She expects Mikasa to end the conversation here regardless, because it’s risky, but instead Mikasa only lowers her voice.

“Are you serious right now? Your price for staying with Eren is continued sexual favors? You agreed it was just once!” Mikasa whispers harshly.

“I’m not asking for that!” Annie counters, then lowers her voice as well when Mikasa glares pointedly. “You agreed to make it suck.”

“Didn’t it? You barely made any sound.”

“Because you told me not to! ‘I don’t want to hear anything from you but breathing?’ Remember? And the first time sucked. Absolutely. You basically masturbated through me. But the second—” she couldn’t help the memory that comes unbidden, of fingers everywhere. She takes a steadying breath. “Why did you even continue touching me? On what planet did you think that sucks?”

Mikasa’s jaw tightens almost imperceptibly, if not for the twitch in her neck muscles. “I wouldn’t know. I told you I haven’t been with a woman before.”

“So it was just dumb luck? Dumb luck that you gave me the best damn orgasm I’ve ever had in my life? Why didn’t you stop at one?”

Something burns in Mikasa’s eyes, something she can’t quite place, and then Mikasa backs away, swiveling around and circling around the other side of the car. For a moment it almost looks like Mikasa is going to get into the car and drive away, as ridiculous as it seems, and then it hits her why she’s getting that sense. Mikasa is retreating, avoiding. She remembers the dark desire she saw that night, and it spurs her pursuit.

“You wanted it. You wanted to touch me.”

“Yes! Yes, all right?” Mikasa gets as far as the hood of the car before she heaves a sigh as she sits her weight onto it. “I haven’t been with a woman before. I was curious. And you were right there. Willing. And you wanted me to touch you.”

Annie swallows hard, the admission that Mikasa too wanted to touch her making all her nerves tingle. “I did. I still do.”

Mikasa’s gaze jumps up to her, her eyes shaky and her face flushed. She’s even fidgety where her arms cross around her chest, as though wishing she had worn her scarf so that she can hide her face within it. But there is no scarf around her neck, so Mikasa settles with looking down. “Look Annie, I’m sorry. I hadn’t meant to make it...good, for you. And I’m sorry if it’s making things harder, but this is messed up from the start. I’m not going to fuck you again. Let’s not make this worse than it is.”

She knows Mikasa makes sense. And she should probably agree. But if her logic worked, she would never have gotten into this situation in the first place. “So that’s it? You took your chance to experiment and now you’ve touched your fill so you don’t care anymore?”

From the way Mikasa’s shoulder tenses she figures it’s not the right thing to say. But there is no anger in Mikasa’s voice, only weariness. “You don’t care about me either, Annie. You never have. It’s always about how you feel. What you want. You dangle your relationship with Eren before me, knowing I cared enough about it to do what you want, you promised that it was just once, yet here you are doing it again. Don’t I have a say? The only thing that ever gave you pause was when you thought I might have been a virgin. Tell me something, if I were, would we even be having this conversation right now, or would you be Eren’s ex?”

Annie feels her stomach lurch, and the fact that Mikasa doesn’t sound angry through her accusations makes it worse. But Mikasa is right. She never have thought much about how Mikasa feels. Only her answers, and the outcomes. And only one thing stands out to her now. “I wouldn’t have broken up with him.”

“So I should have pretended to be a virgin?”

The implication that Mikasa really hadn’t wanted to do it stings like a slap. She closes in on Mikasa, stands right in front of her, needing to look her in the eyes. Needing to know for sure. Mikasa seems to get her intent, and she raises her head. With Mikasa half sitting on the car hood, their gazes are level. She lowers herself into a crouch, letting Mikasa look down at her.

“Were you that unwilling?”

Mikasa doesn’t answer for what feels like a long time but in reality is probably ten seconds. It’s still an excruciatingly long ten seconds as Annie holds her breath, waiting. Mikasa finally breaks their gaze with a sigh, casting a quick glance at the direction Eren and Armin went off to. “No. No, I wasn’t unwilling.”

Her shoulders sag with relief as she too looks to the side, but there are no signs of the two yet. She stands up and proceeds to sit on the car hood next to Mikasa. It quickly draws a look from the other woman, but no words. Taking that as permission, she makes herself comfortable by leaning back on her arms.

“Sorry I’m selfish.”

Mikasa snorts. “What are you going to do about that?”

“Do you hate me?”

“You annoy me.”

The instant response somehow wrings out a laugh. “Yeah, likewise. You piss me off so much.”

“Not enough to not want me to fuck you, apparently.”

“That’s exactly why I want you to fuck me.”

Mikasa throws her a look, eyes narrowed, brows raised and she hastily raises a hand like Reiner always does to shut her up. It works. Mikasa eyes the hand, but silently gestures for Annie to go on.

“I’m not going to break up with Eren, all right?” she reassures. “Whatever you say after this. I like him. I like being with him. I’m not going to dangle it before you like a threat, so ease up on that.”

“If not for that,” Mikasa says, skeptical, “why should I do anything with you?”

“Because you want to touch me-,” she says slowly, watching Mikasa’s reaction. “-and I want you to touch me.”

“I already did. We already did. You got what you wanted.”

Annie lets out a long breath. She can’t deny that Mikasa is right, just as she can’t deny that it’s probably wrong to want more. But she has just admitted to being selfish, and somehow, there’s something about Mikasa and rational thought that doesn’t go together. Never has. She suddenly feels like pulling her knees up and hugging them to her chest, but Mikasa probably wouldn’t appreciate her doing that on her car hood. Also, the angle might just have her slipping right off. So she brings only one leg up, bracing it with her other knee.

“Maybe it’s just sexual incompatibility, but it’s never been great with Eren. I didn’t even know great before you,” she says to Mikasa, but Mikasa’s expression isn’t exactly one of joyful achievement.

“It doesn’t have to be great.”

It echoes so much of her own sentiment she couldn’t help barking out a laugh. “I thought so too once. Then you happened.” A complicated expression surfaces on Mikasa’s face, one that Annie cannot decipher. It doesn’t help that Mikasa doesn’t say anything, only turning away with a sigh. Having said this much however, she presses on. “Mikasa, we don’t like each other. It’s just sex. There’s no chance of me leaving Eren for you.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s not cheating,” Mikasa retorts. “Worse, you want me to help you continue cheating on Eren.”

“He doesn’t have to know.”

That finally triggers Mikasa’s anger but it lasts only the briefest of moments before Mikasa blinks and snaps up. Annie understands why when she catches the familiar voices drifting in from the distance as Mikasa stands up, looking over to where Eren and Armin are making their way back. The two are engrossed in their own conversation, not yet paying attention to them, and Annie takes the chance and precious seconds left to wrap things up before Mikasa decides this never happened.

She grabs Mikasa’s arm to get her attention. “Mikasa, you can say no. I’m not dangling anything, and nothing is going to happen if you refuse.” Mikasa frowns, like she can’t believe Annie is continuing this conversation and indeed Eren and Armin are too close for comfort now. “If you change your mind, come over Tuesday night.”

The tiniest sliver of anger returns to Mikasa’s eyes. “You must be joking.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

“Hey! We’re back!” Eren calls out and she lets go of Mikasa’s arm, hurriedly switching her focus to the returning two. He holds up two small plastic packets in his hands. “So, we abandoned the shower idea because we realized we don’t have towels and all and so, plan B. Disposable ponchos! Armin’s idea really, just so we don’t get our clothes touching your seats and...uh, is everything okay?”

Mikasa straightens immediately, probably realizing that her glaring is what gave away something being wrong. But she salvages the situation just as quickly. “Eren. Annie and I are arguing about the life cycle of a jellyfish. She doesn’t believe some of them are immortal. Armin, you’re better at this than I am. Tell her.”

And for the nth time that day, she sees the display of shock on Armin’s face as he is roped into another person’s machinations. “Um, okay.” Then he raises the plastic bag he’s carrying. “But first ice-cream.”

The drive back home is uneventful. Mikasa drives and talks very little while Armin sits in the back with her, actually telling her about the life cycle of jellyfish. She feigns interests to keep up Mikasa’s cover, but his enthusiasm is infectious, and before long she finds herself genuinely interested in the aquatic creature. Eren, likely tired out by all his scheming, sleeps soundly the entire journey. It feels like no time at all before they’re back in the city and Armin is the first to be dropped off. When Eren’s place comes second, Annie decides to get off as well. Somehow, being alone in the car with Mikasa doesn’t seem like the best idea at the moment. At least for now.

Eren stretches out his sleep relaxed muscles as he stands on the sidewalk, yawning slightly, leaving Annie to take the containers of leftover food from the boot. She slams the lid shut before joining him on the sidewalk.

“You look ridiculous in that,” she comments on his poncho.

He just grins at her and waves at Mikasa as the car pulls away. Then he reaches out and takes the containers from her. “So, fun day? How did it go?”

She turns to watch the departing black car up until it disappears around the bend and then she shrugs. He’s not asking the same question she’s answering, but the answer is the same regardless. “We’ll see.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone asked me if I'm going to write a chapter from Mikasa's POV, and the answer is no. I might write an epilogue after the main story is done and that will be from Mikasa's POV, but not now. So to know what she's thinking about, it really comes down to observing the things she says and the things she does.
> 
> This story is honestly a guilty pleasure project for me. I understand that the subject matter of infidelity can be off putting to some, and I'm definitely not condoning it. I love all manner of sweet, romantic, fluffy, one true love type Mikaani stories out there but sometimes, I simply itch for something less wholesome.


	6. fearless on my breath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings!  
> This chapter cuts off at a very strange place because originally, this chapter and the next is supposed to be one chapter. However, it got a little long, almost twice the length of previous chapters, so I split it in two for consistency and digestibility. There isn't a good cut off point though, so unfortunately, it just cuts off very strangely, and the next chapter will continue right where this lets off. I'm sorry about that. Also, while I'm not sure whether to warn about this, it also feels irresponsible not to, so WARNING for bad sex. What sort of bad sex I leave to personal interpretation.
> 
> \--
> 
> Chapter title taken from the song Teardrop by Massive Attack. Amazing song, but the version I listen to while writing this is the cover by AURORA. The atmosphere that AURORA creates in her cover in indescribable. The original is beautiful, but there is a sensuality in AURORA's cover that just takes my breath away. This is actually the song I had on repeat while writing Chapter 4's sex scene, particularly the second part. So it is the feel I was going for.

When exactly does evening turn into night? It is six? Seven? Or could it be as late as eight? She had said come over Tuesday night, but she’s not even sure when that measure starts which is actually a pointless thing to worry about since she knows that on Tuesdays, Mikasa goes to Kenny’s. And the past two times she’s seen her there, Mikasa never leaves before ten. Even so, by eight she’s pacing with nervousness. She doesn’t actually walk around aimlessly, but she moves a lot. From the kitchen, to the living room, to the bedroom, and repeat. By nine she finds the bedroom too far away from the front door, so she skips it and her pacing circle grows smaller. At one point she picks up her guitar to pass the time, but she puts it away when it seems to drown out all other noise. She tries to read, but when she spends fifteen minutes on the same paragraph she gives up. At ten she’s doing push-ups by the door. It’s ridiculous, it tires her out, but she’s finally able to sit quietly and do nothing but wait.

Does she think Mikasa will actually show up? Honestly, no. Not when there is no reason for Mikasa to do so, when she reassured Mikasa that there are no consequences either way. Especially not when Mikasa doesn’t even want this like Annie does. But what if? She can’t abandon the what if. So even though it probably makes her look like a fool sitting right next to the door waiting for something that might never happen, she’d rather be a fool. It’s likely she won’t be able to get a minute’s sleep until the sun rises and it ceases to be Tuesday night anyway. That is perhaps the only point in which she will accept the finality of Mikasa’s choice. Not a minute before.

At ten-twenty, she begins to get restless again. Twenty minutes is the time it takes to get from Kenny’s dojo to her house by car. Part of her wants to camp at the window where she has view of the front street so she can see. The other part wants to remain unknowing until the doorbell rings. If it rings. The latter part wins and she continues sitting by the door. By eleven, it becomes awfully quiet, both the road outside her apartment building and the hallway outside her unit. Where before she could hear all manner of vehicles going about with the occasional honk here and there, now she hears one or two cars, driving sedately along the street. Where before she could hear the hustle and bustle of her neighbours going in and out, now intermittently there will be footsteps, but they stop way before her door or they walk pass.

She sighs, drawing her knees closer to her body as she rests her head on her arms. It’s a long night yet. She isn’t sure how long she spends like that, almost pretending to doze off, but when the very deliberate pair of footsteps draw her attention, she catches the minute hand at ten. It could be a neighbour, back home late, maybe drunk. But no. The footsteps are slow, hesitant, but measured. Not the footsteps of a drunk person. She breathes deeply and waits as the steps come closer and closer and then stops. Right outside her door. There are no units on the opposing wall, so unless the person outside is lost or just taking a break, it has to be hers. She swallows, looking up at her peephole. That would answer the question immediately but she doesn’t move. She grips her knees and she waits.

It takes a while. Long enough for the minute hand to move from ten to eleven. Long enough for her to doubt herself, to wonder if the footsteps are real or a trick of her mind. Long enough for her to half convince herself that there is no one outside. But then she hears it. Two soft knocks on the door, the knocks so soft that she might not have heard it if she hadn’t been sitting right there. She lurches up at the confirmation that she’s not imagining things and pulls open the door. Who she sees on the other side staggers her with a mix of relief and anxiety. Perhaps this person is destined to make her feel conflicting things.

Mikasa’s eyes are wide, hand still raised from knocking, but she proves her stoic nature when she composes within moments. She lets her hand fall into her pocket and when she speaks it is almost a sneer. “That was fast. Were you waiting right behind the door? Are you that eager?”

“I have a doorbell,” she snaps back. “Are you that afraid?”

Mikasa tenses and Annie almost regrets biting back. But this is also a reality of their interaction. She’s not about to sit back and take it. She’s not about to let Mikasa change her mind either. Stepping back, she pulls the door open wide in silent invitation although Mikasa probably takes it as a challenge. Her shoulders rise and fall as she stares at Annie unmoving. But she doesn’t back down either and after a few more seconds, Mikasa steps forward and into the apartment. Mikasa walks to the same spot she stood in her first visit, the space between the living room and the kitchen, and waits for Annie to circle around her.

“I didn’t come here to fuck you.”

She could snap back again. She’s tempted to snap back again. Why Mikasa bothered coming in. Why was it hard to ring the doorbell. Why Mikasa’s here at all. But she knows it won’t do any good to argue and piss each other off. If Mikasa wants to talk, then she’ll humor her.

“Why did you come here then?”

Mikasa’s hands move like they’re holding on to something in her coat pockets. “What’s wrong with Eren?”

Annie looks up from those unusually large pockets, shelving the question of why Mikasa is even wearing a coat on a hot summer night. “What do you mean?”

“Is he bad in bed? Is he a terrible sexual partner?”

“What...? No.”

“Then why can’t you orgasm with him?”

“I don’t know—”

“Is it because he’s a guy? Do you prefer women?”

“No. Stop jumping to conclusions. I’ve been with other men before, and everything was fine with Eren before you entered the picture.”

“Then what is he doing differently than before? Or differently than me?”

“Nothing! Absolutely nothing has changed! I just can’t! I even tried to do it with him like we did, and that didn’t work either. What is it you want me to say, that I haven’t tried?”

Mikasa’s lips form a tight line. “I think you don’t want to come with him. Whatever your reasons are, you decided it.”

Annie is incredulous. “Why would I do that?”

“Sex is a process, end of the day. Push the right buttons, orgasm happens. That’s just how it works,” Mikasa explains with a shrug. “If he’s not terrible in bed, and you’re not a lesbian, then what other explanation is there other than you blocking yourself?”

“I’m not doing that! I want to come with him, he’s not doing anything wrong, but it just doesn’t happen. And I don’t know why, all right? Did you come here just to say this?”

Mikasa’s hand moves in her pocket again. “I think that’s bullshit, and I came here to prove it.”

She almost flinches at bullshit. But she forces in a deeper breath, tells herself to stay calm. “And how are you going to do that?”

“You said that you can only come if you think of me.”

“Yes, and?”

“So I’m going to fuck you with this-” Mikasa pulls out her right hand from her pocket, together with the thing that is inside, “-just this, and you’re going to pretend that I’m Eren. And if I can make you orgasm, then this is bullshit and you’re going to shut up about this from now on.”

She stares disbelievingly at the item in Mikasa’s hand. The first sexual thought she has ever had about Mikasa is Mikasa fucking her with a strap-on. And that’s exactly what Mikasa is holding in her hands. She’s holding a strap-on and she wants to fuck her with that. Annie feels light-headed suddenly, all her irritation gone and that intent is all that matters. She swallows hard, reaching out to grasp the back of the couch for support as her blood rushes out of her limbs to the point between her legs.

“Mikasa...I can see that it’s you. That’s not going to work. Of course I’m going to come.” The very thought itself has done half the work.

Mikasa pulls out her other hand from its pocket and tosses something her way. She catches it when it weightlessly hits her chest and she finds a length of black cloth, thin but long. Her breath catches in her throat as she tentatively looks back at Mikasa.

“You’re going to tie that around your eyes. I’m not going to say anything, or touch you with anything but this, and you’re going to pretend that I’m Eren.”

She wants to laugh at the absurdity of this all. A blindfold, a strap-on, and imagining someone else is fucking her. It’s almost like some sort of kinky roleplay. Except Mikasa is serious. Her eyes are hard, glaring her into accepting this. But she’s never used a blindfold during sex before, or any sort of sensory deprivation. She’s never been fucked by a strap-on before either. And now Mikasa wants to use them both, at the same time. She grips the cloth in her fist and returns the glare, unable to deny it excites her even as the detachment pisses her off.

“How exactly does this prove anything?”

“It will prove that sex is just a physical thing. I’ll make you orgasm while thinking of Eren. And that will mean you can orgasm with the real Eren too.”

It’s obvious that Mikasa doesn’t care the slightest how this is affecting her, she just wants to prove a point. Maybe it’s even fair, but it doesn’t stave off her indignation, leaving her in a cross between angry and aroused. “And if I don’t?”

“What do you mean?”

“You want me to lie there, blindfolded, thinking of someone else, while you fuck me like a rag doll. Shouldn’t I get something out of it too?”

Mikasa rolls her eyes. “Pleasure?”

“That’s what I mean. What if I don’t?” she challenges. “You’re confident you can prove your point. And if you do, fine. Call out my bullshit, call me a liar, whatever. I’ll shut up about this. But what if you can’t make me come? What do I get other than you fucking me sore?”

Mikasa glowers, her voice tight when she forces it out. “What do you want?”

Rationally, she knows she shouldn’t ask for this. But what she wants hasn’t been rational from the start. She has already crossed a line. There is no uncrossing it, and she is long past being rational. Might as well gamble it. So she simply states her demands. “That we continue this.”

“Of course that’s what you want,” Mikasa scoffs, not even surprised anymore.

“Which I’m not going to get because you’ll definitely make me come, right? Or are you afraid now you can’t do it?”

“Hell no.”

“Then let’s do it. You want to prove your point, then I’ll prove mine.”

Mikasa hesitates still despite the severity of her gaze. Wise choice, considering she has more to lose if she loses. But by now their interaction is a pattern, and Mikasa isn’t wise enough to back down where she probably should. Or perhaps she truly believes she will not lose. “I’ll make you come.”

Annie has no intention of losing either. “You can try.”

Mikasa beats her to the bedroom, already stripping off her coat when Annie gets there, and Annie decides to put on the blindfold first. The less she can see Mikasa and what Mikasa is doing, the less turned on she’ll be. But the move is a double edged sword for when she loses her vision, her hearing instantly sharpens, and the sounds of the strap-on harness being tightened does the same to her as what seeing it would. She warms, quickly knotting off the blindfold at the side of her head and removing all her clothes from the waist down. She leaves her shirt on, because Mikasa isn’t going to touch her there anyway, but she doesn’t feel any less vulnerable to be sightless and only half naked. Even with all her clothes on, she’d feel naked without her sight. Crawling to what she thinks is the middle of the bed, her insides flip from what she isn’t sure is arousal or fear, or maybe it’s the same thing.

The mattress dips suddenly and then hands grab on to her knees, tugging her forward and spreading them apart. She gasps as cool air brushes against her center and she panics. “I’m probably...not wet.” She leaves out enough.

Mikasa’s hands leave her knees, and then she hears shuffling. “I have lubricant. Relax.”

She does relax because for all of Mikasa’s detachment of the situation, at least Mikasa spared this small thought for her comfort. The scent of cherries invades her nose as she lies down on the bed but as long seconds pass and nothing else happens it becomes evident that Mikasa intends to make good on her words about not touching her with anything but the strap-on. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realizes that it’s probably going to hurt because even if the toy is lubed she is not and that it’s probably a good thing anyway but when she feels Mikasa closing in on her, the head of the toy lining up against her, she stops thinking altogether and braces herself.

Mikasa’s hands drooping the mattress on either side of her shoulders tells her what to expect. “Nothing but breathing or the word stop.”

She sucks in a deep breath and nods. The head of the dildo pushing into her slightly is her only warning before its entire length penetrates her in a single thrust. Her body bucks against the action, legs trying to instinctively clamp shut but are impeded by the form between them. She winces at the stretch, the toy being decidedly bigger than Eren, or anything else that’s been inside her, and little pinpricks of pain radiates from within as she forces herself to relax, sucking in several more deep breaths. Then she remembers that she’s supposed to be thinking of Eren, that she’s supposed to imagine that Eren is the one fucking her, but when she tries it feels wrong right away. Not only because the cock inside her feels distinctly artificial, but because if it’s really Eren here, he would be pulling out and asking her if she’s all right. Mikasa just waits for her to adjust. At the very least, she isn’t ploughing on, unconcerned about her state. Although that could probably be due to her thighs clenching down on Mikasa’s hips more than anything else. Without being able to see Mikasa’s expression, she can’t tell which it is.

Eventually her breathing steadies and the pain recedes enough for her to slacken her grip of Mikasa’s hips. Mikasa takes that as an okay and doesn’t waste any time, slotting clothed knees under Annie’s thighs, and then she moves. The toy moves easily within her, lubed up as it is, but it is big, and she can’t get used to the size. Mercifully, Mikasa starts slow, with deep, long thrusts that stretches her out and fills her up but soon Mikasa finds her rhythm and begins to steadily pound into her. Annie grunts against the force but Mikasa doesn’t relent and so, unable to do much else, she curls her fingers into the sheets and lets Mikasa have her way. The discomfort is to her advantage anyway and she lets it settle over her, bringing Eren to mind once again. She thinks of him chasing his own release, she thinks of him trying hard to please her, and the intended effect kicks in. Whatever arousal she has stagnates, even tapering off the more she recalls her frustration over being unable to orgasm with him leaving her with nothing else but the physical sensation of being fucked.

She doesn’t know how long it continues for after that, unable to even glance at the clock with her eyes blindfolded. But it feels like a long time, long enough for the air to turn warm and muggy, making her wish she had taken off her shirt, long enough for a strain to build in her lower back and her hips. She wants to stop, wants to tell Mikasa to stop, but she cannot, not when they never discussed what stopping means. If she says stop, whose point prevails, or neither? How long does this go on for, or can Mikasa just keep trying even if it takes her till morning? That’s hardly fair, but maybe she’s the stupid one for not thinking clearly before jumping into things. Now she feels like she’s being rubbed raw by Mikasa’s unyielding thrusts, she’s dizzy with sightlessness, the air is oppressively clammy, and there’s not even a hint of arousal to help her through.

Only once does Mikasa nearly get her somewhere, when she angled the strap-on to hit her just right at that spot that makes her hips jerk. She realizes instantly that she could very well come if Mikasa continues that so she masks her reaction with a groan of pain, groaning again, and again, and again, until Mikasa pauses. She doesn’t say anything, Mikasa doesn’t say anything, but when Mikasa moves again, she stays clear of that spot. She wishes now she hadn’t done that, as that would have brought this to an end. Anything seems infinitely better than this never-ending ordeal. Maybe she doesn’t get to prove her point, but it doesn’t even feel worth it anymore, not when the in out motions are actually starting to hurt. It’s not even the nice sort of pain. There is only force and disregard. How much longer does Mikasa plan to go? Does it only end when she tires out? She can hear Mikasa’s breathing, quick and laboured, but if she knows anything about Mikasa, it is that her endurance is terrifying.

This isn’t a fight. There is no glory in holding out. She’s the only one getting miserably fucked into the bed after all. She shifts, then winces when her movement causes the toy to poke at her inside, but before she can push Mikasa away, everything stops. The sound of their breathing becomes overwhelmingly loud and she hears Mikasa swallowing, feels hot air brushing against her neck. But all that is nothing compared to the screaming discomfort between her legs.

“Are you done?”

She ends it, and she doesn’t care if it’s not over. She’s done. Mikasa pulls away at once, her weight leaving the mattress completely, and relief immediately sweeps through her when the toy slips out of her and she draws her legs close and into her body. It hardly even matters that everywhere down below aches in protest of the rough treatment. She places a hand against herself and hisses when it stings as her other hand weakly tugs off her blindfold.

“Fuck.”

The sudden return of her vision is disorienting. She closes her eyes and breathes, dimly aware of the water running in the bathroom, and the noisy clatter of what she assumes is Mikasa washing the strap-on. Carefully, she tries her eyes again, her sight adjusting just in time to catch Mikasa striding out of the bathroom, grabbing her coat, and making a beeline for the door. She doesn’t spare a look at Annie, or say anything to her. Not even to tell her to get up and lock the door. Annie turns to her side, groaning when even that little movement sparks pain from her center. She will probably feel better in the morning, but now she just feels raw. Sore. Hollow. And she hates how Mikasa doesn’t acknowledge anything that has happened. She’d take even a throwaway line about locking the damn door or a sideways glance. But all she hears is the front door opening and slamming shut in succession, and she reaches up to grasp at her pillow, pushing her face into it.

She does eventually get up to lock her bedroom door, but she can’t be bothered to go all the way to the front. Everything aches, and she just wants to sleep.

When she wakes up in the morning, it is with exhaustion. She makes a grab for her phone on the bedside table only to call in to her gym to cancel all of her classes for the day. The only one she doesn’t cancel is her personal session with Eren. Because she wants to see him. She needs to see him. She sleeps in a little longer than usual but it is that thought of seeing Eren that has her dragging her body out of bed, freshening up in the shower, and getting prepared to go out. Thankfully, despite leaving her front door unlocked, she finds that everything is still in place and she makes sure to lock it this time when she leaves. She also closes her bedroom door because she’s too tired to wash her sheets and the air still vaguely smells like cherries.

There is a lot of time to kill in her now free day, and she leisurely gets brunch from a sandwich joint and eats it in the nearby park. She considers going for a walk but she’s still uncomfortably sore that she ditches the idea and heads for the library instead. It’s been a while since she’s dropped into one and she can pass the time reading. Or so she thought. She fiddles with her phone more than she reads and within half an hour the quiet unsettles her and she finds herself leaving for someplace noisier. It’s strange, she’s always preferred the quiet but right now quiet isn’t just quiet. Quiet is empty. And she doesn’t want to be by herself at the moment. She wonders if how she’s feeling is because of last night. If she’s upset at how Mikasa just up and left. If she even has the right to be upset. Isn’t it better that it ended terribly? Isn’t it a good thing that she’s upset with Mikasa, that she feels like she doesn’t want to see her again? They’re not anything to each other. She shouldn’t let it bother her.

“Are you okay?”

She meets Eren’s eyes, seeing the warmth in them even as he keeps his guard up. She makes a mental note to compliment his fine form. “What do you mean?”

At that he drops his arms as he regards her seriously. “Your stance just seems off today. And you’re not kicking as high as you usually do too. Is something wrong?”

Of course he would notice. She had waited all day today for this moment, to see him react in exactly this way. Suddenly she doesn’t know why she had ever thought that there is something lacking with him. “It’s nothing. I pulled a muscle trying to get something from the top of the shelf.”

“You should have told me. Are you all right? Does it hurt? Want me to give you a massage?”

Maybe sometimes he’s too intense, but that’s just part and parcel with everything else that is great about him. She can’t dislike that about him. “I’m okay, really.” Then she steps closer to him, takes his hand. “Do you think we can end today’s session here? Go do something else instead?”

“Of course,” he replies readily, already pulling her to the edge of the ring. “I would have cancelled completely if I knew you’re hurt. You really shouldn’t aggravate any muscle injuries. It’ll just take longer to heal. Come on, let’s have you rest today.”

He offers to piggyback her. She refuses, but she does let him decide to take her to the cinema, and which movie to watch. He picks a comedy, which is surprising as he usually prefers action flicks, but what surprises her more is his choice of seats. As she sinks down on the couple’s seat with him though, she is certainly not complaining. This is what she wants all along. To have his arm around her body, to snuggle into his warmth, to hear his heartbeat through his chest. It’s relaxing, and she stops paying attention to the movie ten minutes in. She just wraps her arms around his waist and closes her eyes. She hadn’t meant to doze but when she opens them again, it is to Eren’s rousing, and the music of the end credits. Eren only smiles at her and takes her to dinner.

They end up at Reiner’s Diner where she gets a free meal while Eren has to pay for his because Reiner is an ass. He then accompanies her home, offering once again to piggyback her the entire way which she refuses until they get to the bottom of her apartment building where she finally relents, and lets him carry her up three flights of stairs. There is a moment when she’s balancing herself on his back while also trying to unlock the door, that she thinks she should send him away here, because she hasn’t cleaned up and her bedroom is still off limits. But as he pushes open the door and carries her in, the opportunity to speak up passes. She settles for the next best thing, sliding off his back and heading straight for the bedroom, sighing with relief when it no longer smells like cherries. Then she quickly strips off her clothes, pretending that that is the reason for her haste.

“Make yourself at home,” she calls out.

“Yeah,” he replies, already raiding her refrigerator. “I’ll take a soda for the road.”

She pulls on a loose tank top and lounge pants, tying the drawstrings as she goes out to the kitchen. “Not going to stay for a while?”

“Nah, you should rest,” he answers, popping the can open, and then he grins mischievously. “or is there something else from the top of the shelf you need help with?”

She waits until he’s taking a sip of the soda before jabbing him in the stomach. He sputters, and then she grabs the front of his shirt to pull him down for a kiss, licking up the spit out soda around his mouth as she does. Arms wrap around her waist as he eagerly kisses back, deepening it with teeth and tongue.

“Damn, now you’re really making me want to stay,” he says when he parts for breath.

She playfully pushes him away. “Go home you ass.”

He laughs boisterously, grabbing the soda he had placed on the table before bending down to give her a final peck on the cheek. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

The apartment is quiet again once he leaves and with the taste of soda in her mouth, she contemplates opening a can for herself but eventually decides against it. It might taste good now, comfortingly sweet and frothy, but she just knows she’ll regret it half a can later. Instead, she goes back to her bedroom and throws herself onto the bed. Part of her wishes that she’d asked Eren to stay, if only to cuddle her while she sleeps, but the other part of her knows that’s a bad idea. This close to the sheets, it becomes apparent that the cherry smell isn’t completely gone. Running her hands over the surface, she can even feel the lubricant stains. No doubt he would figure it out immediately too, what that is. It’s not impossible to explain away, but it might be suspicious, and she doesn’t need that right now. She needs a supportive partner. A supportive partner she’s not cheating on.

The doorbell rings when she’s standing at the edge of the bed, just about to pull the sheets off because she can’t possibly sleep on them. It brings to mind too easily, what took place there not a day ago. And she’s still feeling too raw for that. Maybe she won’t even sleep on the bed today, but on the couch instead. On the way to the door, she looks around to see if Eren has left anything behind, half expecting it to be the can of soda, but there is nothing of the sort anywhere around. It would be funny if he actually left the soda and came back for it. She doesn’t bother with the peephole at the door, still thinking it might be Eren, and goes straight for the lock.

Who is actually standing on the other side of the door causes her to freeze. Her throat tightens and it crosses her mind to slam the door shut. But she doesn’t. Because of the myriad of things she feels when she sees her guest; shock, disbelief, upset, weariness, there is also elation. Just like the first time.

“Eren was just here,” she says instead.

Mikasa nods. “I know. I saw him leave.”

Annie’s heart clenches in her chest. Saw him leave because coincidentally, Mikasa arrived the same time he left, or saw him leave because Mikasa had been there the entire time, waiting? She takes a deep breath, gripping the handle of the door tightly not to reflexively open or close it.

“Why are you here, Mikasa?”

There isn’t any predetermined arrangement today. She’s not sure, after how yesterday went down, she even wants any more predetermined arrangements. Seeing Mikasa in the flesh, it dawns on her that is does bother her how Mikasa just up and left. She’s upset. She’s angry. But she doesn’t know what or who she’s angry at. Mikasa for doing it how she did? Or herself for wanting it in the first place? And if she wanted it, can she actually be angry at how Mikasa went about it?

“I got these for you,” Mikasa replies, lifting up the box she’s carrying in her left hand. “Eren mentioned that you like them.”

She looks at the box, reading the words ‘Carly’s Donuts’ printed on it. It’s her favorite ones, and it makes her even more confused. She stares at the box, and then at Mikasa, and then back at the box, but there are no answers anywhere. She doesn’t understand why Mikasa has brought her doughnuts. Mikasa lowers her arm when she doesn’t say anything, and that finally draws her attention to Mikasa’s demeanor. There’s no helping that Mikasa’s height makes her naturally look down at her, but there’s something different about the way Mikasa stands. She isn’t sure if it’s the slump of her shoulders or the almost gentle gleam in her eyes. Whatever it is, it’s making Mikasa feel incredibly soft. Like all the hard edges are gone.

Mikasa inhales, but her voice comes out soft and shaky. “Can I come in?”

It’s the kind of softness and shakiness that goes straight to her fingers and toes. She backs away from the door, leaving it open as an answer, and retreats to the kitchen where she crosses her arms to stop the tingling in her fingers. Mikasa follows after her, coming to a halt at the edge of the table where she places the box of doughnuts down. Then without waiting for an invitation, she sits down on one of the stools. That same stool. Her eyes implore Annie to take a seat as well, but Annie doesn’t. She remains standing, leaning her weight on the opposing wall as she glares. Mikasa nods in resignation and drops her eyes, shifting slightly in her seat. She gets right to the point.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” Mikasa apologizes. “I was angry. I wanted to prove that you were lying. And I went further than I should have.”

“So you realized?”

Mikasa nods again. “I knew. I knew after a certain point that you weren’t going to orgasm, but I kept going. I knew I was hurting you, but I kept going. I didn’t even care if you were all right with the strap-on and the blindfold. I just kept going.” Mikasa looks up, meets her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Annie returns Mikasa’s gaze, unsure of what to say. Then she sighs, uncrossing her arms. Her emotions might be a jumbled mess right now, but one thing for sure is that she can’t remain upset in the face of that earnest apology. Because Mikasa cared enough to come back here to tell her this. And she can’t lie that some part of her wants to hear this. Needs to.

“We were both trying to prove our points,” she replies with a shrug. “I was being stubborn too.”

“Yes, I suppose we were,” Mikasa agrees, and then she lifts her arms onto the table, speaking a little slower. “And you proved your point. You won. I’ll go along with what you want.”

Her mouth goes dry as the full implication of Mikasa’s words sweeps over her. Mikasa is agreeing to continue this, as per what she said she wanted if she proves her point. But now is her chance to end all of this. She had just thought not long ago, that Eren is enough for her. That she doesn’t want to keep cheating on him. That she doesn’t want to continue these predetermined arrangements with Mikasa. Thinking back, what was even going through her mind that she would ask for this? She recalls how miserable and raw she had felt yesterday after the rough fucking, she brings to awareness how sore her body still feels almost a day later. Yesterday sucks. It’s exactly the kind of awful fucking she’s not going to miss, the kind she wanted the very first time. Now she got it, now she can let this go. Now is the only chance to let this go.

“Mikasa, yesterday really sucked,” she starts, taking a deep breath as she paces to towards the other end of the table. “It hurt, and there was nothing remotely pleasurable about it. I’m still sore in all the wrong places. So, I know what I said, but right now I don’t really feel like having se—”

“I’ll make you feel better.”

She pauses mid-stride, mouth hanging open. Slowly, she turns around to find Mikasa staring right at her. “What?”

Mikasa’s gaze doesn’t falter, her voice carries conviction, but her body language is all softness and round edges. “Let me make you feel better.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annie playing the guitar is a nod to Isayama's High School AU fake previews. Carly's Donuts is a nod to the Lost Girls spin off series once again.


	7. tell me all the things you want to do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a mostly sex chapter. But of the good sex variety. It picks up directly where last chapter ends and is basically a very long sex scene. I ask for your indulgence. Because this story was originally just a smutfic, it had a lot of sex scenes. I later cut out some of the more pointless ones that serve no purpose other than being a sex scene when I developed the romance around it, so I like to drag out the ones I do keep.
> 
> \--
> 
> Chapter title is a line from the song Video Games by Lana Del Rey. I listen to the cover by Silver Swans.

There is no misinterpreting the meaning of those words, not coupled with the tone of Mikasa’s voice and the gleam in Mikasa’s eyes. She swallows through the dryness of her mouth. She should say no. Accept the apology, thank her for the doughnuts, and then send Mikasa on her way. After all she had just determined, she knows that’s what she should do. But the drumming in her head and the burning in her chest makes it hard to think. And somehow, somehow, what she ends up doing is the exact opposite. When she can hear again, when she can breathe again, she’s already in her room, standing at the foot of her bed, facing Mikasa. She blames her body that still reacts to Mikasa, tingling her fingers, quickening her heartbeat, warming her deep inside. It’s absurd. She knows she’s still sore, but she’s wet all the same. As long as—

“You’ll be nice?” she ventures.

“I won’t hurt you,” Mikasa whispers, all promise, and penance, and passion.

That’s good enough and it burns her up with so much want that at that moment she feels like she would let Mikasa do anything she wants to her.

“But,” Mikasa says suddenly, slowly reaching down to unzip her jeans, “there’s this.”

Something appears through the hole of Mikasa’s pants, and Annie stares at the thing, her leg twitching at the sight of it. “Really? Again?”

“It’s smaller than yesterday’s.”

“Smaller than—” she can’t help her disbelieving sigh, which turns into a helpless laugh when it hits her that this means Mikasa either has strap-on's of various sizes, or she just got this smaller one between yesterday and now. “Why this?” 

Mikasa looks down at the toy, prompting Annie to do the same. She eyes the black silicone, and then she reaches out to grasp it, curling her fingers around its width. It certainly is smaller, and closer to the size she’s comfortable taking. But again, while she’s still sore. It’s not really a matter of size.

“I want to make sure that you’re not put off by penetration, after yesterday. I don’t want you to have another problem with Eren.” 

Annie scoffs, rolling her eyes at the taller woman. “Mikasa, I think I can tell the difference between an overly large toy and your brother’s stuff.” She gives the toy a tug, feels Mikasa sway, and then she finally notices that Mikasa is wearing the harness, inside her jeans. “Wait, were you wearing this the entire time?”

Mikasa sways back, pulling the toy almost out of her hand. “Yes.”

The nonchalance of the answer is mind boggling. “What if I had asked you to leave?”

“Then I would have left. I drove here, Annie. It’d be a bit uncomfortable, but that’s it.”

She breaks into helpless laughter again because the mental image of Mikasa driving home with a bulge in her pants is just ridiculous. “You’re ridiculous,” she quips, but as the words leave her another thought springs to mind. Because this also means that Mikasa drove here with a bulge in her pants. It means that this is her intention from the start.

Something shifts then. She’s not sure if it’s in the atmosphere and Mikasa feels it too, or if it’s just with her, when she realizes Mikasa’s intentions, but all at once she’s burning up and she lets go of the silicone and steps back. It’s not real of course. Mikasa doesn’t have a penis. It’s just a toy that happens to be attached to where an actual cock would be. But all the same, it feels entirely too intimate suddenly. The feeling isn’t helped by Mikasa reaching over to grasp the hem of her tank top. Her breath hitches at the brush of Mikasa’s fingers on the skin of her side, and her gaze leaps up to find Mikasa’s. Mikasa has never undressed her before. She is always expected to take them off on her own. She doesn’t understand. Why now? Why like this? This, where it isn’t frantic removal of clothes in the heat of the moment, but this, where it’s slow, gentle, seeking permission, _intimate_.

“I won’t hurt you,” Mikasa repeats, giving the tank an unhurried lift.

Annie raises her arms. She thinks she sees something like a smile before her vision is obscured by her tank going over her head. Mikasa discards it on the edge of the bed, reaching for the drawstrings of her lounge pants next. It takes only a simple tug on the knot, and the article falls right to the floor. Goosebumps rise on every inch of exposed flesh as Mikasa’s eyes rake over her and it’s strange. Mikasa has seen her completely naked, has touched her everywhere, but only now, with Mikasa undressing her, does she feel so bare. It’s that thing again, the intimacy. That is what’s making this so different.

That, and the fact that Mikasa begins undressing too. She watches, mesmerized, as Mikasa pulls off her scarf, her jacket, unbuckles her jeans, pushes that down too. The top, a thin, long sleeved cotton tee stays on. And the strap-on. But it is already far less clothes than she’s ever seen Mikasa in. Her gaze drops to the endless expanse of Mikasa’s muscular legs, her stomach twisting at the thought that those thighs would be brushing against hers, skin to skin.

“Turn around.”

She looks back up, then does as she’s asked. That’s another thing this time. There are no commands, only requests. “You really don’t like me looking at you, do you?”

“That’s not it,” Mikasa is quick to deny. She shuffles closer, a hand coming to rest on Annie’s hip, making her shiver. “I thought you might not be comfortable, facing me.”

She wants to take that hand on her hip, drag it across all of her body. “Maybe you should stop assuming how I feel about it?”

“Sorry.”

“So can I turn back around?”

The hand on her hip presses lightly. “No.” And then Mikasa’s other hand touches the small of her back, gliding up along her spine to the nape of her neck. “You have a sexy back,” Mikasa drawls, hand gliding back down and undoing the hook of her bra as it goes, “and I want to look at it.”

Annie trembles violently at the tingles that sparks from her spine, at the heat that shoots right between her legs, and she sucks in a breath for steadiness. Her bra is tugged off and instantly, the still sparking tingles hardens her nipples. She bites her lip to keep from moaning. It’s crazy how wet she is already from basically nothing. Then Mikasa’s breath is on her ear.

“On the bed, on your knees.”

She scrambles to follow, stripping off her panties as she goes. She wonders if she should go as far as the headboard, like the first time, but her answer comes in the form of an arm around her waist, halting her in the center of the bed as Mikasa comes up flush behind her. The other hand finds her lower back again, tracing upwards, eliciting more shivers, but this time it doesn’t stop at her nape. It goes all the way up to her hairline, weaving into the tiny hairs there, before applying gentle pressure until she bends her head forward. And then she feels it. Something soft, warm, and slightly wet, making contact with her nape. She gasps at the sensation, and then shudders when a rush of hot breath confirms it. Those are lips. Mikasa is kissing her nape.

“What—”

She startles, but quickly cuts herself off. Because Mikasa has boundaries for their engagements, boundaries that have been true two for two times. She is not to touch Mikasa, kiss her, say any names, or make any sound at all save breathing and the word stop. Even if this feels different, even if Mikasa has crossed one of her own boundaries by taking off most of her clothes, surely some rules still apply. But then she feels a hint of teeth, lightly grazing, lightly teasing, and all she can think of is wanting that mouth on her everywhere.

“Fuck...” she breathes, and it takes her a few seconds to realize she actually said something, that she’s crossed a boundary. “Oh shit, sorry, I’ll— ”

Mikasa catches the hand she brings up to cover her mouth. “You can talk,” Mikasa murmurs slowly, directly below her ear, her words almost like a caress. “Tell me if it hurts. Tell me how you want me to touch you.” Then, as Mikasa’s hand returns to Annie’s waist, she positions Annie’s hand on top of her own. “Show me.”

She almost comes undone right there and then. A desperate noise forms in her throat as heat pools below her belly and liquid arousal trickles from between her legs. She cranes her head, looking back at Mikasa, needing to know that this is really okay, only to have Mikasa plant a wet kiss on the side of her neck. Wet. With tongue. She groans, gripping the hand on her waist and dragging it down to where she needs it. The first touch has her throwing her head back with pleasure as Mikasa’s long fingers covers all of her. They touch everything, focusing on nothing, and she bites her lips again, panting through her teeth.

“Inside?” Mikasa whispers into her ear, her other hand moving around to lightly hold her neck, keeping her head tipped up.

Somehow it excites her even more that she can’t look down to see Mikasa’s hand between her legs, and can only feel as she is gradually but inevitably brought to the edge. She chokes on her words, shakes her head. “No, just like this.”

Mikasa complies, drawing her fingers away from her heat and up, dipping into her folds to find that sensitive bundle of nerves, and immediately begins massaging it. She lets out a straggled moan, and then again when Mikasa bites down on the juncture between neck and shoulder. The sensations are overwhelming. The pain of the bite, shooting down her spine, and the pleasure of the massage, shooting up her spine, meeting in the middle to burst into a haze of pleasure pain that she doesn’t know how to react to. She grips Mikasa’s arm with both her hands, using it as leverage to grind into her fingers even as they move against her, completely lost in the haze. But when Mikasa bites harder the second time, accompanying the bite with gentle sucks, she snaps up in a moment of clarity.

“Wai—Wait, you’re going to leave a mark.”

In her moment of clarity, she remembers that Mikasa is not the person she’s dating. Mikasa releases her neck, as she expects her to, because she too is painfully aware that she’s not the person she’s dating. But Mikasa doesn’t move away from her, pausing only for a moment before continuing to litter her neck with little kisses and bites as her fingers between her legs keeps moving and moving and moving and suddenly Annie doesn’t even know why she cares if Mikasa wants to bite her everywhere, leave marks everywhere, tell the whole world what they’re doing behind everyone’s back and—

“Hide it.”

Mikasa growls it against her skin as she bites. Hard. And Annie orgasms, suddenly and powerfully as her body goes taut at the cusp, then convulsing over the edge with every wave of pleasure. As her climax courses through her, she’s dimly aware of Mikasa’s teeth still on her neck, of Mikasa’s fingers still steadfastly massaging her clit, of her own fingers clenching down on Mikasa’s arm. Finally, after she has wrung out every last bit of her release, she slumps forward, resting on her heels as the haze passes and she collects herself with steady breaths. Only then does she consider her neck, bringing a hand up to brush against it. The flesh is tender and wet with Mikasa’s saliva. She swallows at what this means. 

“That was fast.”

She turns her head to look at Mikasa, wondering if it’s teasing or a statement, because it _wa_ _s_ fast. Mikasa has barely touched her. Perhaps it carried over from yesterday’s unspent arousal. “Stroking your own ego?”

Mikasa only smirks, reaching out to trace along her spine again. “Are you all right?”

Annie sighs blissfully, savouring the shivers as she nods. “More than.”

“Then it’s time for this.”

She watches Mikasa rub the fake cock attached to her hip, smearing it with the remnants of her own arousal. The sight makes her throb, seeing how wet Mikasa’s fingers are from just touching her outer lips, telling her how wet she must be inside. And now, after having come, even more. She needs again. Wants more. And as Mikasa works the toy, she throbs with anticipation. Then Mikasa stops, reaching back to where her jeans are discarded on the floor to pull out a small packet of lubricant from its pocket. She gives it a tap.

“I don’t think you’re going to need that.”

Mikasa looks at her, and then at the packet. “Really? But it’s watermelon.”

The mention of fruit momentarily throws her off, but then she remembers the cherries. “Do you have a thing for red fruits?”

“Maybe it’s a yellow watermelon.”

“It’s red on the packet.”

Mikasa hums, tears the packet open, and immediately the smell of watermelons wafts through the air. She squeezes out a liberal amount on her palm and then spreads it around the dildo. “I’ll get apples next time.”

“And insist they’re green apples?” she quips, closing her eyes and breathing in the sweet scent of watermelons. It distracts her from what Mikasa means by ‘next time’, and she convinces herself it’s just a figure of speech. “You should get a bottle.”

“Strawberries?”

“I like pomegranates.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Annie snaps her eyes open, staring at Mikasa, because this no longer sounds like meaningless banter. But Mikasa is still focused on the toy, seemingly unaffected by their exchange, and when she finally looks up it is only to close their distance and so Annie puts it from her mind as she turns to lie on her back. Mikasa’s hand holding her hip stops that action.

“Wait. Like this.”

“From behind?”

“Rather not?”

There is something inherently vulnerable about assuming this position, something inherently submissive. It’s not a position she likes to assume much at all. But Mikasa’s gaze bears a request, not a command, and her hold on her hip is soft enough that she can still turn if she wants to. That is ultimately the deciding factor.

Maintaining eye contact with Mikasa over her shoulder, she settles onto her hands and knees. “I’ll let you enjoy my sexy back.”

Mikasa chuckles, and it is an amazing sound, but one that she doesn’t get to enjoy much for when Mikasa closes in to her and runs her hand up along her spine into her hairline again, desire takes over. Without preamble, Mikasa slips two fingers into her and she keens at how easily and without resistance the entry is, as she hears how unbelievably wet she is when Mikasa gently moves within her. But what really gets her fisting into the sheets is Mikasa’s lips on her back, kissing the path of her hand in agonizing slowness, ghosting hot breath on her skin with every kiss. 

By the time Mikasa reaches her hairline, exhaling directly on the back of her neck, she’s trembling so hard she barely even registers the strap-on pushing into her.

“Okay?” Mikasa asks, pausing halfway.

“Yes, yes. Okay.”

The final couple of inches slides into her in a single thrust. She groans, more for the feel of Mikasa’s bare thighs brushing against her own rather than the penetration of the strap-on. Mikasa shifts, rocking into her once as she grazes her fingers along her back, and Annie’s elbows give in.

“Fuck,” she sighs, clutching the sheets under her hands as Mikasa starts up an easy rhythm. She tries to match it, to push back against Mikasa’s thrusts, but Mikasa’s hands circling to her front to cup her breasts sends that thought spiraling elsewhere. “Holy shit.”

“Feeling good?”

She gasps at Mikasa’s thumbs finding her nipples, rubbing them back and forth. “Stop stroking your damn ego.”

“You curse a lot when you’re feeling good.”

“You wouldn’t?”

“I wouldn’t.”

Mikasa’s forefingers join her thumbs, giving her nipples a pinch. Annie moans, pushing her face into her hands to not say something stupid in retort and get them both into another weird situation of sexual one-upmanship. Like yesterday, which happened because they are both stubborn idiots who won’t back down. But it did lead to this right now, which is some sort of apology sex? She doesn’t know, and she doesn’t care. It feels good, so she relaxes and lets herself simply feel everything that is happening to her. The snug fit of the strap-on, steadily pumping into her, Mikasa’s warm body, curved along her back, hands on her breasts, rolling nipples between fingers. She breathes into the sheets, pushing back to meet Mikasa’s thrusts. It feels good, but it’s not enough.

“Don’t tease.”

“I’m not,” Mikasa replies, her movements halting momentarily as she does. She quickly gets back to it though, as though realizing that stopping now is the biggest tease. “Tell me what you want.”

It’s strange. Mikasa has always just done whatever she wants. But now and even before, Mikasa is acting completely with her direction. “Faster.”

Instantly, Mikasa’s hands leave her breasts to brace on either side of her head for leverage. Then the pace gradually picks up, starting just as slow as it was until it peaks at a speed that has her rocking into the mattress and makes her insides flutter with pre-orgasmic shivers. She bites her lip, keeps her breathing steady, and stares at the hand by her head. She wonders if she can hold on to it, like she did before when it was between her legs, teasing out her first orgasm as she gripped it hard. She wonders if she pushes the sleeve up to the elbow, if she will see finger shaped bruises on it. Her inner walls clenches down suddenly, creating delicious friction against the dildo that goes straight to her head.

She’s close. “Touch me. Touch me.”

In the back of her mind, she knows how imprecise those words are, that Mikasa is already touching her. That same part even expects Mikasa to point it out like an ass and be a complete piss-off about it because that’s just how they are with each other, but to her surprise Mikasa doesn’t. Without slowing the pace of her thrusts, she watches as that hand by her head disappears under her body, sliding along her stomach and then—

She comes, back arching and fists clutching the sheet as she squeezes hard on the toy inside her, the circling fingers on her clit drawing out her orgasm. She gasps into her hands, muttering incoherently as the pleasurable shocks swim into her head, leaving her in an euphoric state of bonelessness where all she can do it breathe. And breathe she does, sinking down onto the bed to let her body calm down from her high. This feels just like that first time with Mikasa. Fantastic. And in her bliss she wonders what it is that Mikasa is doing that others don’t seem to be. But she can’t figure it out. Nothing in particular stands out.

She inhales one final deep breath, and then she rolls her eyes over to glance at Mikasa, settled by her hips. She’s not sure when Mikasa drew away from her but their only point of contact now is the hand on her back, tracing meaningless patterns on her skin. It feels nice.

“You really like my back, don’t you?”

Mikasa nods. “Yes. It’s sexy.”

Well, at least it’s not awkward to talk. Maybe because she’s actually allowed to talk this time. So is this apology sex after all? It seems like it. It would explain Mikasa’s gentleness with her, and letting her take the reins. But it doesn’t explain the hickey, or this atmosphere of intimacy. That last bit is definitely confusing, because it feels right in all the wrong ways.

“You all right?”

That prompts her to shift, turning over so she can look at Mikasa directly. “You’re checking in on me a lot today.”

There’s a slight frown on Mikasa’s face, possibly from losing contact with her back. But as her eyes survey the expanse of Annie’s abs, she tilts her head and places her hand there instead. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

She’s glad then, that Mikasa isn’t looking at her face, because she’s sure something is showing. Because her chest is burning up suddenly, and it’s not from the hand lightly stroking along her belly. Clearing her throat she tries to get up, because it’s starting to seem like the longer she stays here in bed with Mikasa the worse this intimate atmosphere will become. She gets as far as her elbows before she feels the press of Mikasa’s hand. Mikasa’s intention is clear to see. 

“I’ve come twice.”

“Yes,” Mikasa agrees. “Do you want to stop?”

She bites back her eager no, because of course she doesn’t want to stop. But she isn’t sure why Mikasa feels the need to take it this far. What does it even mean for them after it is done? Maybe she should stop this here, because at some point, or maybe even from the start, this no longer feels like just sex. She stares at Mikasa, trying to ignore the thumb rubbing circles around her navel, and decides to test it.

“Can I kiss you?”

“No.”

The instantaneous answer is a relief. Some boundaries still exist. So she lays back down on the bed, accepting that Mikasa wants to continue and reassured that there isn’t a blurring going on. Mikasa follows suite, adjusting herself around Annie until she’s kneeling between parted legs. Pulling the pillow under her head, Annie gets comfortable as Mikasa places both hands on her stomach and starts to touch her again. Just like the first time, Mikasa touches everywhere. But unlike the inquisitive tip of the finger touches of before, this time she uses her entire palm, caressing her entire body with firm, warm hands. Mikasa presses into her hips, slides along her thighs, brushes behind her knees, circles around her ankles, grazes the soles of her feet.

She jerks at the ticklish sensation that last move elicits. Mikasa doesn’t linger, gliding up the length of her legs back to her stomach, and then up some more. Lightly scratching past her rib cage, skimming between the valley of her breasts, tracing along each clavicle, and then out, to her arms. She sighs, rolling her head back into the pillow as she enjoys the ministrations.

“Why do you like to do this?”

It hits her after she’s said it that ‘this’ can refer to a number of things, but Mikasa doesn’t miss her meaning. Her palms press into her wrists.

“You seemed to like it the other night, or was I wrong?”

She hurries to shake her head. “No, you’re right. I do.”

Mikasa’s hands return to her stomach, gently caressing, and then Mikasa bends down to plant a kiss right above her navel. Annie gasps at the warm and soft contact, her muscles twitching under Mikasa’s mouth. Then the heat goes to her face when she realizes that Mikasa is kissing her way up her front with the same agonizing pace as she did her back. One breath for every kiss. Except now she can see Mikasa, planting every little kiss, and she has to will herself not to grab her by the hair and pull her up. What does come up, are Mikasa’s hands, enveloping her breasts and palming her nipples, and she chokes back a cry.

“Can I...can I hold on to you?”

She needs to hold on to something. Right now it’s the sheets. But a body is better. A body that will react to her. That will push and pull and move with her. Mikasa stops the kisses, lifting her head to peer down at her even as her hands keep moving, and Annie has to breathe deeply not to surrender to the sensations.

“No.”

Despite seemingly considering it, Mikasa’s answer is expected. She clutches the sheets tighter, but to her confusion, Mikasa’s hands are suddenly running down hers to find her palms, uncurling them from the sheets, and then taking the place of the sheets by holding on to her hands and interlacing their fingers. Annie is stunned silent. She feels Mikasa’s hand gripping hers, pressing her arms against the bed as Mikasa resumes her tortoiselike kissing, and she’s not sure she follows what is going on. But as she wriggles her fingers and feels every one of Mikasa’s intertwined with hers, her pulse stutters.

“What are you doing?”

Mikasa stops again, her expression mirroring Annie’s confusion as she rears herself up. “What do you mean?”

Annie tugs their joined hands for emphasis. “This.”

Mikasa’s confusion persists. “I’m giving you something to hold?”

“Something to hold...?” she reiterates slowly, and then it clicks. “Isn’t this worse than holding on to you? This is really...this is really intimate.”

That appears to be a running theme right now, and she has allowed all the rest of the intimacies, but this is where she has to draw the line. She’s never done this with any of her partners before, not even the one she’s currently in a relationship with. She sure as hell is not going to do this with Mikasa. It wouldn’t feel right.

“Really?” Mikasa questions back, baffled but unmoving.

With Mikasa leaning up and over her, body slotted in between her legs, hands pushing hers flat on the bed, staring down at her, her breath hitches. She swallows thickly as she, splayed out on the bed effectively restrained, can do nothing else but look up at the dark, gray, steely eyes peering down at her. She had thought that being on her hands and knees is vulnerable. But no, this is worse. This is infinitely worse. But despite the bafflement, she feels Mikasa’s grip loosening around her hands and she quickly pulls them into herself, turning away from Mikasa’s gaze.

“Yes it is,” she blurts, needing to break the odd tension that has taken hold. “How could you not know?”

Mikasa only shrugs, leaving one hand on the bed to brace her weight while the other returns to Annie’s breast. “I don’t.” 

She shivers as a finger brushes against her nipple, curling her own into the sheets once more. “Do you do that with everyone you sleep with?" 

“No,” Mikasa answers, idly running her fingers up and down the stiff peak. “I’ve only ever slept with one other person. We were both drunk, I don’t even remember what happened.” 

It takes her a while to process what Mikasa just said over the stimulating sensations on her nipple, but when it finally registers she turns to Mikasa, eyes wide, only to find Mikasa staring down at her hands fisting the sheets. Mikasa smirks, giving her nipple a pinch and watching her fists tighten. 

“All right, you can hold on to my shirt.” 

The snarky comment derails her previous train of thought, replacing it with her own indignation. “I can hold on to your shirt? What the hell? What is that, some sort of consolation pr—fuck!”

The sensation of lips around her nipple is not what she expects. But it’s there, hot and wet and soft, and she can feel Mikasa smirking against her skin. “Cursing again, I see.”

She grabs onto Mikasa’s shirt, pulling at it in retaliation. “Fuck you.”

Mikasa simply opens her mouth, darting her tongue out, and Annie inhales sharply at the sight, liquid heat going straight towards her center as the slick muscle curls round and round her hardened peak, and then closing around it completely. Her mind goes blank, words and thoughts failing her altogether as she feels teeth lightly grazing her nipple, holding it in place for that tongue flicking it back and forth and she shudders as her arousal spikes. Wrapping her arms around Mikasa’s shoulders, she grips her shirt at her shoulder blades, unsure if that level of contact is allowed, but beyond caring at the moment. Mikasa doesn’t say anything anyway, not with her mouth occupied elsewhere, and when Mikasa’s starts to gently suck, all her awareness goes towards that growing heat, and her need to release it. She starts to thrust her hips up to where the strap-on is resting against her, but not inside her, and Mikasa gets the message. Her nipple is released just long enough for Mikasa to check in on her—

“Okay?”

“Yes dammit!”

—and then the toy pushes into her as Mikasa leans up to kiss her neck. The pace is slow this time, with Mikasa rocking into her unhurriedly, outright ignoring her demands for more. Is it infuriating. Mikasa stokes her arousal higher and higher, continually lavishing attention to her nipples with her fingers or her mouth or her tongue, and then she keeps her there, with steady thrusts that maintains her arousal but is not enough to let her tip over. Annie tries everything, pulling hard at Mikasa’s shirt, grinding up against Mikasa’s pelvis, trying to flip them over to take charge, but Mikasa resists them all. She stops short of begging Mikasa to let her come and can only keep breathing to endure the agonizing pleasure as Mikasa whispers ‘patience’ into her ear.

When she finally does come the third time, it is to Mikasa rearing up, hands going underneath her hips, pulling her up into an angle where she can thrust against that spot inside her makes her see stars. Mikasa misses it the first few thrusts, but then she finds it when Annie jerks, and then she finds it again, and again, and again, and then Annie’s arching off the bed in climax. She sees the stars, her body twitching almost uncontrollably with each wave, and her heart pounding in her head in time with her breaths. The aftershocks go on for what feels like minutes but finally, her body relaxes into the mattress, thoroughly sated, and she reaches up to grab the pillow and push her face into it. Exhaustion begins to seep in as the euphoria passes.

“Good?” 

She would retort if Mikasa sounded at all smug, but no. It’s another one of her check ins. So she takes a deep breath and looks up from the pillow. “Was that all necessary?”

Mikasa doesn’t reply, still seated between her legs with the strap-on still half inside her, as she runs her hands up and down her thighs. The shivers it elicits are pleasant and she closes her eyes, exhaling into the pillow. Then one hand comes to rest on her lower belly. “You were lying yesterday, making all those pained noises,” Mikasa says, and that has her opening her eyes again, just in time to catch Mikasa holding her down lightly. “When I moved against you here." 

The strap-on presses into the front of her inner walls, directly on the spot that made her come, and she bucks up involuntarily as a brief flash of whiteness invades her vision. The burst of intense pleasure and the pain of overstimulation hits her both at once as she lets out a muffled cry against the pillow, hugging it tight through her muscle spasms. “Fuck...” 

Mikasa withdraws instantly, but her point is made. Her touch becomes tender once more, running her hands almost comfortingly over her skin in continued contact. Annie swallows, turning her body to face Mikasa, but she’s not quite able to meet her gaze. “I was being stubborn,” she says, and it’s a pathetic excuse because she lied through her teeth and Mikasa knows this. Because she realizes now that Mikasa knew this yesterday, and chose to go along with her. “Are you mad at me?”

Mikasa tilts her head, hands still roaming along the expanse of her stomach and her thighs. Then a hand slips between her legs and reaches out to touch her clit, sliding one finger down along it. Annie allows this, biting her lip and sucking in a breath to resist the reflex to jerk. “No, I’m not mad,” Mikasa answers. But then the finger slides up, and it’s too much. 

Annie jerks. “Shit, stop that. There’s a fine line between mind blowing and too damn much.”

Mikasa pulls back her hand before she could slap it away and with a brief smile, Mikasa is off the bed and heading towards the bathroom. Annie turns to watch Mikasa go, wondering if Mikasa really would have gone the fourth time if she didn’t say stop. But no way, that’s definitely too much, and Mikasa is all sorts of strange today. That last bit especially. Mikasa saying she isn’t angry while touching her, there’s an intensity to it that she isn’t sure she finds perturbing or profound. She hears the water running and she closes her eyes to the sound of Mikasa washing up. Inevitably, questions begin popping into her head now that it’s clear they’re done. What time is it? How long have they been going at it? What happens now? The first two she figures easily by looking at the clock. The last, she can’t decide alone so she waits.

Mikasa returns with the slightly damp toy, placing it on her jacket and then picking up her jeans from the floor and pulling them on. For a moment, Annie is almost afraid that Mikasa will up and leave again, but Mikasa dispels the fear when she looks at her once she’s buckled her jeans.

“May I use your kitchen?” 

The question catches her off guard. “Uh...sure?”

Mikasa’s little snicker as she exits the room has her springing out of bed despite her exhaustion and her satedness. Grabbing her tank top and lounge pants, she quickly slips the top back on while she heads to the bathroom to clean up the rest of her. She’s doesn’t know what Mikasa is doing, but she definitely doesn’t want to give the impression that she doesn’t care. Something has happened. Has changed. And they need to discuss exactly what that is. She hears the fridge opening and closing, hears the ding of the microwave, and then an incredibly familiar sweetness wafts into her nose. Hastily she wipes herself dry, washes her hands and face, pulls on her pants, and races out to the kitchen.

The sight that greets her is exactly what she thinks it is. On the table are a set of two small plates and two glasses. On each plate is a piece of Carly’s signature doughnut, and in the glasses are a white liquid she assumes is milk. Likely warmed. Mikasa stands by the table, gesturing her to take a seat. This time she does, taking the seat adjacent to that one stool.

“What is this?”

Mikasa moves a set of plate and glass towards her, then takes a seat herself, pulling the other set towards herself. “I said I’ll make you feel better. So. Comfort food.”

“It’s practically midnight now,” Annie replies, but she grabs the doughnut anyway.

“Best time for comfort food.”

She doesn’t argue, not when she’s already bitten off half the doughnut. Plus, it’s Carly’s, her very favorite, and it’s been a while since she’s had them. The sugary glaze melts in her mouth and she purrs with delight. She swallows the first bite, then drinks a mouthful of milk to help it down.

“How did you know Carly’s is my favorite?” she asks, taking another bite. According to Mikasa, Eren mentioned it. But Eren doesn’t actually know that she has a favorite, only that she likes doughnuts. Unless Eren does actually know. 

“I saw the loyalty card you had on your key stand yesterday,” Mikasa explains, tentatively picking up her doughnut. 

Apparently no, Eren really doesn’t know. She swallows her second bite. “You had time to notice that?” 

“I hesitated by the door.”

Mikasa bites into her doughnut, staring intently at the piece of confectionery, but to Annie it seems like she’s avoiding making eye contact. She feels a flush blooming because that one line, and Mikasa’s reaction, tells so much. But she doesn’t want to assume. 

“You’re very attentive,” she says instead. “Not just this, you remembered where my house is after dropping me off once. I envy whoever gets in a relationship with you.”

“Really? Eren is sure I’ll suffocate them with my smothering.” 

“Some people like being taken care of.”

Mikasa takes another bite, and then another, and then she drinks her milk. “This is very sweet.”

“Yeah. I usually have them with black coffee.” 

“I see. I’ll remember that.” 

Again with that. Just like the pomegranates. She wishes she could ask what Mikasa is remembering them for. And she could. But attached to that line of questioning is an expectation, or the shutting down of that expectation, and somehow, she doesn’t want to do either of that. What she does want however, is to talk about whatever the hell is going on between them right now, and what it means after this. But Mikasa is finishing the last of her doughnut, and so she waits, taking another bite herself as Mikasa downs the rest of her milk. 

Just as Mikasa puts down her glass and Annie opens her mouth, Mikasa beats her to it, clearing her throat and whipping out a pen and a small piece of paper. Mikasa immediately starts to write something down, and she just watches, feeling like speaking now would be an interruption. In her open mouth she places her last bite of doughnut, chewing it slowly. Once she’s done, Mikasa carefully slides the paper over to her and she picks it up. On it, is what looks like an address.

“I’m usually free after seven on Thursdays, and no one comes over without letting me know first. If they do, I turn them away at the door,” Mikasa says without context. “So, if you want. You can come over then.” 

It takes the last sentence for her to piece together that she’s looking at Mikasa’s home address. And then another half second for her to figure out why Mikasa has just given it to her and asked her over. Whatever remains of the doughnut in her mouth sticks to her throat when she tries to swallow. She looks up at Mikasa, coughs, but Mikasa keeps her gaze on the table doesn’t look her way. 

“You...want to...?” 

“I’m leaving that up to you.”

She stares at the paper in her hands and swallows harshly. “Why do you want me to decide this?”

“You’ve always had the power, Annie. You decided everything.” 

“I didn’t ask you to come here today.” 

“No. I’m here because I hurt you yesterday. I came here to apologize. And to give you what you want.”

“That’s why you’re here?” 

“That’s why I’m here.” 

She nods then, placing the paper down on the table. Reaching for her glass of milk, she finds that it has lost a bit of its heat and quickly, she drinks up the rest of it before it goes cold. Mikasa takes the glass from her once it’s empty, and the plate, bringing them both to the sink together with her own dishes. Part of her wants to jump up and stop what Mikasa is doing because regardless of why Mikasa is here, she’s a guest. She shouldn’t be doing the dishes. But Mikasa goes about it so seamlessly, just like she would in Eren’s house, that Annie stays in her seat, staring instead at Mikasa’s back and that piece of paper on the table. 

When Mikasa returns to the table, she brings with her a towel wrapped ice pack, handing it over to Annie. Annie takes it with a frown, and Mikasa brings a finger up to tap on her own neck. “For the mark. Sorry. I don’t know why I did it.” 

Suddenly remembering the hickey, she reaches up to touch it. “So there is a mark?” 

Mikasa nods. “Yes.” 

She looks at the ice pack, wishing now that she had examined the hickey when she had been in the bathroom. But it would be strange to do that now, to express that she wants to look at it, so she puts the ice pack to her neck, hissing slightly at the stinging cold. To her surprise, Mikasa sits back down again. She expects, now that they’ve eaten, the dishes are done, the address have been given, and the ice pack is in place, that Mikasa would take her leave. But Mikasa just sits there on that stool, quietly watching her. The chill on her neck makes the heat on her face all the more pronounced. 

“I’m sorry,” she blurts. 

Mikasa raises an eyebrow. “About?” 

She’s not sure herself. About everything, perhaps. That they’re in this situation in the first place, that it’s messy, that she should reject that address, retract that stupid win and cut things off here. That she doesn’t want to do that, that that little piece of paper is making her heart race. There are too many things she’s sorry about. And now there’s one more. “You mentioned earlier that you’ve only slept with one other person before this.” 

“Yes,” Mikasa affirms. “We were both drunk. We only realized the morning after what had happened.”

“And it was one time?” 

“Yes.” 

She presses the ice pack hard against her skin, and it bites. “So I’m the second...ever. Oh god, I’m sorry Mikasa. I’m so sorry.”

“This again?” Mikasa sighs, leaning back slightly. “Would it have made a difference? What’s the point of apologizing about it now?” 

She bites back her flinch because it’s true, there’s no undoing what has happened. And happened again. And happened again. “I wouldn’t have asked for more.” 

“You asked. I decided to come. Yesterday and today. You weren’t dangling Eren.” 

“And I won’t do it again,” she declares, taking a deep breath. “I won’t break up with Eren.” 

“What?” Mikasa raises both brows this time. 

“You said you gave me what I wanted as an apology, so, me too. I’ll stay with Eren.” 

Mikasa pulls an amused expression. “Forever?”

“I can’t promise that,” she grimaces haltingly. “Not that far. But for now. If we split, it won’t be because of this. And take this back.” She reaches for the paper, sliding it over to Mikasa forcefully. “Let’s just forget about yesterday. You know I cheated. It was stupid. I don’t know what I was thinking when I asked for this.” 

Mikasa’s eyes flick down to the paper, and then up again. “I do,” she says easily. “And you do too. You wanted me to touch you.” 

The words are said so calmly that she isn’t sure if it’s merely a statement, or if it’s actually a veiled insult. Mikasa’s expression gives away nothing. But it is nothing but the truth, so she nods. “Did you hate doing it?” she asks, bracing herself for the answer because today had been especially gentle. Because it’s an apology. It’s hard to imagine that behind that gentleness, Mikasa could be resenting everything. 

Mikasa hums lightly. “Do you think I hated it? Didn’t we establish at the beach that I wanted to touch you?”

“You were curious. And I don’t think you half-ass anything.” 

Mikasa smiles then, a brief, fleeting thing, and then she takes hold of the paper with one finger and pushes it back towards her. “Annie, I brought you to orgasm three times. I wouldn’t do that unless I wanted to.”

She glances at the little piece of paper, stuck under Mikasa’s finger, suddenly regretting stopping Mikasa before the fourth as her insides flutter around wildly at Mikasa’s words. It is the same finger, she realizes now, that Mikasa drags along her clit before she tried to slap it away. She takes in a stuttering breath, trying to calm the fire that the memory is fueling. 

And then the finger is retracted, and Mikasa stands up. “I should go. It’s late.” 

The tension breaks so abruptly that it disorients her. She watches as Mikasa disappears back into the bedroom, most likely to collect the rest of her stuff, and she presses her face into her hand, feeling like she needs an ice pillow for how hot her face is. Or maybe a cold shower. Maybe both. Feeling her neck growing numb from the chill, she places the makeshift ice pack down, and looks to the piece of paper before her. Mikasa has given her the power of decision. She doesn’t think she should have it. She hasn’t ever made the right choice. She wouldn’t be here making another if she did.

Movement from behind her stirs her out of her thoughts. She makes a grab for the paper and turns around. Mikasa is crossing over the living room to get to the front door, but she pauses when Annie stands up. Her scarf is wrapped loosely around her neck and her jacket is just bunched up under her arm, no doubt hiding the strap-on wrapped inside. It’s awkward again, and standing there looking at Mikasa, she finds she doesn’t know what to say. It seems she never does, and she doesn’t want to say the wrong thing. Just goodbye? Or something else too? 

But Mikasa is apparently unperturbed by her uncertainty as she approaches her with ease, almost with purpose. The purpose materializes as fingers on her neck, pressing lightly on her hickey. She should have flinched away from the touch, sudden and presumptuous as it is, but the warmth of Mikasa’s skin on her numbed out flesh only draws out a sigh. It feels remarkably pleasant. And worryingly familiar. 

“Looks like it’s going off,” Mikasa notes. “Make sure to keep up the ice pack for the rest of the night.” 

Her instinct is to retort. ‘I know how to handle bruises’ or something in that vein. But she bites her cheek and keeps it in. Because the eyes looking upon her now aren’t patronizing, not at this moment anyway, and she doesn’t want them to part ways on that note. She nods. “Yeah.” 

Mikasa backs away then, and coolly makes her way to the door. Annie follows with her eyes, moving only as much to not lose sight of Mikasa, glad for it when Mikasa looks back at the threshold of the door. “Lock the door after me." 

She doesn’t know why that line affects her as much as it does, that throwaway line, but her throat tightens and she nods her head to hide the reaction. “Yeah, careful on your way home.” 

Her only reply is the door opening and closing. When all is quiet again, she goes up to the door and turns the lock. Then she takes a deep breath and leans back on the wall, looking at the paper in her hand. Mikasa’s address. Glancing at the digital clock on the table in the living room, she’s just in time to see the numbers change from 11:59 p.m. to 12:00 a.m..

It’s now Thursday.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My favorite scene is this entire chapter is when Mikasa and Annie are talking about lubricant flavors. Literally, I love that exchange. 
> 
> So finally Mikasa becomes complicit. Prior to this Annie is the one largely pushing things forward, but here she actually wants to step back, and Mikasa is the one who dangles something. I know what some of you might be thinking, why is the situation continuing like this, why is Eren still in the picture, etc. Simply put, at this point there are no feelings involved. There are hints of it, but the only thing they've really established is that they both want some form of physical relationship with each other. Neither of them wants to upset the status quo for the sake of a physical relationship, so the status quo remains.


	8. kissing in the blue dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's title is a lie. There is no kissing here. Please read the end note for more details. 
> 
> \--
> 
> Chapter title taken from the song Video Games by Lana Del Rey. I listen to the cover by Silver Swans.

Somehow, Annie doesn’t think this is quite what Mikasa had in mind when she said she’s free on Thursdays. After all, Mikasa didn’t say tomorrow. So she probably means Thursdays beginning the next week. And if the look on Mikasa’s face is any indication, she’s right. But she’s here now, she’s paced up and down the street three times, and it’s after dark in a quiet enough neighborhood that she won’t be surprised if someone’s at the ready to report her for suspicious behavior if she doesn’t either leave or knock the door. She reasons with herself that it hasn’t been easy to get here. Hence.

Mikasa stares at her, fingers drumming on the door. “You know Annie, it hasn’t been twenty-four hours since we last saw each other.”

That’s definitely a gibe at her. So Mikasa is in that sort of mood today. Well of course. Yesterday is a special case. She can’t always expect Mikasa to be like that.

“It is Thursday, true, but I was actually thinking of next Thursday, not today.”

Annie stuffs her hands into the pocket of her hoodie, already irritated. She shouldn’t have to stand here and take it. She can be in that sort of mood too. “Look, if I waited that long, I feel like I’m going to chicken out. So just take it as a decision made on my end, okay? We don’t have to do anything today. Sorry for coming unannounced.”

She turns to go, already starting to regret having made the journey, but Mikasa catches her arm before she even completes her turn.

“You’re leaving?” Mikasa’s expression turns bemused. “Don’t be silly. You’re here already.”

She wishes she could read Mikasa better. “You turn away anyone who comes unannounced.”

“You’re not unannounced. I gave you blanket invitation,” Mikasa says, releasing her arm and stepping back. “My door is open. Are you coming in?”

This is her last moment to walk away from this. To get back on the honest path and reverse from this obviously ruinous one. It is a moment she lets pass, and she steps through the door. Because she’s been waiting for the guilt to set in ever since she woke up this morning from her dreamless sleep. But it hasn’t. Not when she stretches her limbs and feels them ache in all the right places. Not when she smells sex in the air and she pulls off her stained sheets, stuffing them into her washing machine. Not when she’s taking a shower and she sees finally, what remains of the mark on her neck. And not even when she’s having breakfast of the leftover doughnuts Mikasa brought, with Eren on the phone asking after her, and they talk for twenty minutes straight. Not when she blatantly lies about what time she went to bed the night before.

It continues not to set in as the day goes on. Not when she has to put on a band aid to hide the hickey. Not when a student asks about it and she throws him on his ass for being nosy. Not when she looks up Mikasa’s address over lunch to find out how to get there. And not even when after work, Eren texts her to ask if she wants to have dinner together, and she tells him she has other plans. Not when she now steps into that other plan, and she hears her exit close behind her. Can she only do the right thing when she feels the guilt? Or is the lack of guilt itself indicative that this isn’t wrong? Well if it’s the latter, then the issue is definitely not her feelings but her morals. Because this is definitely wrong, but at the same time, there is no guilt.

“A lot on your mind?” Mikasa asks, walking over from the door to stand before her, watching her closely.

She looks up at Mikasa’s face, eyes briefly glancing around the interior of Mikasa’s house. The colors are unexcitingly monochrome. “This is a strange situation.”

“You’re saying this now?” Mikasa folds her arms but her tone is light. The ‘it’s a little late for that’ goes unsaid. And while she doesn’t disagree because indeed, it’s the fourth time, but that doesn’t mean there’s no value in pointing out the strangeness of strange things. When she doesn’t reply Mikasa sighs. “I have to put away my work for tonight. You can sit wherever, make yourself comfortable in the meantime. Want something to drink? Eat?”

“No, it’s fine,” she answers quickly. She’s not here for that.

Mikasa nods like she understands and then she tilts her head slightly in indication. “Bedroom is the second door on the left.”

Mikasa makes herself scarce after those words as she goes into the first door on the left, most likely the study. Annie takes another look around, surveying the living and dining areas of the house, but she swiftly makes her way into the bedroom when she sees photo frames on the wall. She’s not here as a guest, or as a friend, because they’re absolutely not that. What they are is complicated and undefined, but it’s a complicated and undefined they both understand. There should be no blurring of that line. And going anywhere else in the house is setting the wrong tone for this visit and is unquestionably a blurring.

Even in the bedroom, she goes to sit right on the bed, trying not to pay too much attention on everything else in the room. The only thing she notes, because she’s sitting on it, is the size of Mikasa’s bed, a full queen compared to her and Eren’s double, and the wardrobe situated directly across, because she’s staring at it. It’s black, like a lot of things Mikasa owns. Her car, many of her jackets and cardigans, the second strap-on. She knows she’s being stupid, there’s nothing wrong with just looking around, but she keeps her gaze straight anyway. That’s how she notices Mikasa appearing at the door, leaning onto the frame.

Mikasa’s gaze is at once scrutinizing and soft. “Have you seen Eren at all today?”

An odd conversation choice. It seems like something to avoid. Odder still is that they’re talking at all. But while the decision making power is apparently hers, Mikasa makes all the rules. So she shakes her head. “We’ve spoken on the phone. Have you?”

“I texted him,” Mikasa says with a shrug. “He hasn’t replied. As usual.”

“Right,” she responds, unsure why she’s even saying that other than for the sake of responding. But she doesn’t see the purpose of the topic of Eren. All it does is make her uncomfortable, like the photo frames she avoided looking at outside. Now his presence hangs overhead and tightens her throat. Maybe that’s the point. “Should I leave?”

“If you want to,” Mikasa says simply.

She really wishes she could read Mikasa better. Or better yet, she wishes Mikasa would stop being so vague. “Do you want me to leave?”

That finally provokes a reaction as Mikasa shifts, inching into the room just slightly and dropping her gaze. “I wouldn’t have stopped you from doing so just now if I did.”

Mikasa’s answer seals the deal, and she’s done with this ambiguous atmosphere. Reaching down to the hem of her hoodie, she pulls it off. Then, standing up, she pops open her jeans and pushes that down as well. It’s a little embarrassing in the way stripping has never been embarrassing to her before, maybe because Mikasa merely watches her from the doorway, but it sure beats all these walking on eggshells they’re doing. They both know why she’s here. They both don’t want her to leave. They both know what they’re doing. So enough beating around the bush.

Her stripping has the intended effect. Mikasa straightens, moving away from the door frame and entering the room, coming to a halt before her. Annie inhales deeply through her nose, feeling her heartbeat already beginning to speed up from their proximity, from the way Mikasa’s eyes wander. It never fails to make her burn.

The dark grey orbs eventually settles on her neck as long fingers rise up to brush against the band aid there. “Is it still very obvious?”

Even that little contact sends shivers down her spine. “Not too bad. Needs another couple of days to clear up though—provided you don’t make it worse or make another one.”

Mikasa hums in acknowledgment, rounding up the sound with a smirk. “I’ll try.”

That is absolutely not what Mikasa should say, and it adds to the list of various things that Mikasa has said that is utterly confusing. She could give the rest a pass, but this, does Mikasa want to get caught? Is Mikasa subconsciously sabotaging herself? Or sabotaging her? Is the prospect thrilling? She can’t figure it out and when Mikasa seizes her shoulders to push her down onto the bed, she finds that she doesn’t really care. Not at this very moment. Not with Mikasa crawling over her and intensifying the burn of her arousal.

“How do you want it today?” Mikasa whispers, leaning in to let her breath tickle her ear.

The words creep around her neck, down her front, and into the pit of her stomach where it knots. She shudders. “I get options now?”

Mikasa pulls back just a little. “Just two. Strap-on, or no strap-on.”

She thinks on the sex toy, on how she’s no longer sore, and how the one from yesterday did feel quite nice. But they’re no longer trying to imitate someone else, or trying to make sure she’s not put off. The toy will have its time and place. But for now, she lets her hand grab on to the front of Mikasa’s shirt, carefully watching Mikasa’s expression to make sure that’s okay. Mikasa doesn’t stop her, so she tugs the cloth lightly. “I want just you.”

And Mikasa gets right into it, bending down to place a kiss on her sternum while her hands circle around her waist. She sighs, relaxing into the soft sheets beneath her. Mikasa kisses up to her clavicle, and then she murmurs, “Thank god, my hips are actually really sore. I don’t know how men who do it everyday keep at it.”

She laughs. “Don’t give me the option then.”

“No way. I’ve no use for those things other than this.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

Then Mikasa’s hand moves up to cup her breast and she stops talking. Mikasa is not as gentle as yesterday, but she is not as cold as the day before that, or as awkward as the first time either. It feels like they’re falling into a new pattern, but all the same she comes on Mikasa’s fingers, two inside and a thumb on her clit. She is allowed to rest on the bed after that, though Mikasa herself doesn’t stay. Of course. That would be too affectionate, too intimate. There is distinctly less intimacy this time compared to yesterday, and that’s good. They should keep it this way.

She doesn’t stay too long either, getting up as soon as her breathing steadies and pulling her clothes back on as she washes up in the bathroom. When she exits the room, she finds Mikasa in the dining hall, once again offering her food and drink, but she declines. Even though they’ve established what’s going on and they’re both doing their part on the boundaries, she’s probably associated food and drink with yesterday’s intimacy, and that feels too unsafe to accept right now. She leaves without fanfare and begins the journey home.

The guilt still doesn’t set in. Not in the ten minute walk to the nearest bus station, the half an hour bus ride, or the fifteen minute subway after that. In fact, she’s so unruffled that it feels like she went to Mikasa’s for tea and cakes, instead of the behind-the-back sex they actually had. She feels more guilty that she’s not guilty and it creates the weirdest sense of dissonance within her. By the time she gets home it’s late, she’s tired, and she can’t be bothered anymore about whether a certain emotion is going to kick in or not. She hits the shower and proceeds to have another dreamless sleep.

She doesn’t see Eren until Sunday in which she realizes that nope, nothing has changed. She still feels the same about him, and she still behaves the same towards him too. It’s easy to talk to him, to take his hand, to look into his eyes, to be intimate with him. She didn’t feel guilty the first time, and she still doesn’t now. The one thing she might have felt guilty about, the hickey on her neck, has faded off completely that there is no longer any need for the guilt. She can’t decide if it’s a good thing or a bad thing but it does make things easier. Because she does want to be with him, and stay with him. She has vowed to. So she supposes that it’s ultimately a good thing her feelings remain unchanged.

Mikasa shows up a little later, to her surprise, because it’s supposed to be the last day of her extra tutoring sessions. Eren only looks at her and grins. She doesn’t understand the reason for that grin until later, when the dinner is done with and Mikasa has left. She’s doubly surprised that the dinner proceeds with such normalcy, but at the same time she knows that’s exactly how it needs to be.

Eren slings his arm over her shoulder once he closes the door after seeing Mikasa off. “So, Mikasa came today.”

She lets herself melt into him. “Yes, and?”

He has another face splitting grin as he looks down at her face. “Looks like the excursion worked!”

“Ah,” she mouths. The excursion. So much has happened in between that it slipped her mind that the excursion, and his attempts to improve her relationship with Mikasa, was just a week ago. Well it has improved, somewhat, but it has very little to do with the excursion. Although she has to credit that the excursion gave them the chance to talk. So. “You’re right. I guess it did.”

“You two still aren’t talking much to each other though.”

They talk quite a bit, as she recalls. But he doesn’t need to know that. “Well, this is probably as good as it gets. At least she’s not staying away anymore.”

“God yeah, that was tough. Her cooking is the best.”

She gives his chest a light slap, chuckling. “Is that what you want her here for?”

He laughs as well, steering her into the house. “Neither of us can cook, Annie. It’s eat out or take out, and home cooking is just so much better.”

The bedroom comes into view and she sees his intention. Twisting out of his hold, she grabs his hand to take the lead instead. “Learn. Your pork chop was nice the other day.”

“I gave you a stomach ache.”

“No you didn’t,” she insists, but she says no more than that. She just hastens to the bedroom and pulls him in. “Enough of this. Come on, I’m staying the night.”

Things do not change in bed either, but she has expected that too. So she just enjoys his enthusiasm and does her best not to compare or dictate. Regardless, he is still her boyfriend, and there are things she can do with him that she cannot with Mikasa. She can kiss him, she can touch him, they can be completely bare with each other, and they can cuddle after sex. Intimacy with him feels right in all the right ways. That’s something she definitely cannot have with Mikasa. Sex with Mikasa is just that, physical gratification. But sex with Eren is everything else. Physical and emotional connection. Bonding. Affection. All the things that are as important as release. And as long as she tells herself this, she feels more at equilibrium. She can justify wanting the both of them.

The only thing that has changed is her Thursday night activities. She still thinks of Eren first and foremost when she sees an advertisement for a new action flick in the cinemas. He is still who comes to mind when she wants a meal partner or someone to do something with. And she can now do all those things with him unburdened by the thoughts of Mikasa. It’s bizarre. Where before she couldn’t get Mikasa out of her mind to the point she dreams of her, now she can keep Mikasa out unless she consciously decides to think of her. Maybe it’s because there’s an allocated time and space for Mikasa, or maybe it’s because Mikasa is in on it too. It’s no longer something she carrying on her own. Whatever it is, it makes her able to be more genuine with herself, whether with Eren or with Mikasa, and she cannot find that a bad thing.

But if she doesn’t have Mikasa in mind while with Eren, the reverse is also true. In the allocated time and space, Eren is nowhere to be found, not unless Mikasa brings him up. Because Mikasa makes the rules, she can bend them. The same goes for the boundaries, which proves to not be as immovable as she thought. She learns, over time, that how much clothes Mikasa removes is entirely dependent on the weather and how sweaty she expects she’ll be. If the strap-on is used, she always removes her bottoms, but if it isn’t, sometimes she doesn’t take off anything at all. The scarf is always taken off however, and her panties and whatever top she’s wearing always stays. She might go bra-less, but the top stays.

How much she’s allowed to touch Mikasa also varies, but unlike Mikasa’s clothes and the room temperature, the measure here isn’t so clear. The one thing agreed upon is that she can only touch to have something to hold. She cannot touch to arouse. But where this line is appears to depend on Mikasa’s mood. Sometimes she can slip her fingers under Mikasa’s shirt and dig her nails into Mikasa skin, other times simply wrapping her arms around Mikasa has Mikasa pulling away. One time in the afterglow of her orgasm, she manages to hug Mikasa’s head to her shoulder and lightly scratch the back of Mikasa’s neck, playing with the soft hairs there in an act that bordered on too intimate. Mikasa vastly prefers back to front positions, so being able to hold Mikasa at all is rare enough in itself, but clearly that particular incident crossed the boundary. Mikasa did nothing but back to front for a while after that, likely to prevent more incidents of the such.

The only two boundaries that are actually immovable are that they don’t say any names, and they don’t kiss. Specifically kissing on the lips. But she’s come to realize that it also applies to oral, which Mikasa never does. Which is a shame, because Mikasa’s lips and tongue and teeth feels amazing on the rest of her, and because she’s fantasized about it more times than she can count. She’s not sure if Mikasa isn’t willing or isn’t interested, but she doesn’t ask. What she’s getting out of their arrangement is clear, but what Mikasa gets out of it is less clear so Annie doesn’t feel like she’s in the position to make requests or demands. Even though they’ve scrapped the boundary of ‘no sound but breathing or the word stop’, even though Mikasa has said that she can tell her what she likes, it is far easier to simply accept without asking and be satisfied with what she gets.

Even if what she gets is immensely frustrating. Like right now. She wonders if Mikasa is aware what a massive tease she is sometimes. Because that’s what she apparently likes to do. Mikasa teases and arouses, often to the point of tears. The very incident where she crosses the boundary is exactly because of this, because Mikasa kept her on the edge for so excruciatingly long that when she finally crests over the relief she felt was acute. But it also felt like she was falling from a very, very high place so she needed support. She needed to hold something, someone, and Mikasa is the only one there. So she holds Mikasa. Pulls her close. Feels her warmth. And then Mikasa uses this to necessitate weeks of only back to front positions, a position that she has limited control over what happens. A position where she can do nothing but accept the sensations being imparted to her. And Mikasa is only too pleased to tease and arouse her into dizzying heights once again.

Like right now. Annie exhales a shuddering breath, trying to clench her fingers over anything where her palms lay flat against the wall, high above her head. She’s facing the headboard again, but unlike the first time, there is a dildo moving between her legs, rubbing along the outside of her heat. It’s a new addition to the two Mikasa already has, but this one is slightly different in that while phallic shaped, it lacks the head that the other have. In its place, it instead has ridges and knobs all along its shaft, and it is the friction between her clit and these ridges and knobs that is heightening her arousal towards her climax. Except is it never quite enough, yet she can’t come down from her high because of the wicked fingers wrapped around her nipples and the mouth on the back of her neck, breathing into her skin, lightly nipping and kissing the sensitive flesh there, and it is driving her crazy.

She pushes her face into her forearms with a groan, at a cross between wanting to scream and wanting to cry. It always feels good after the fact, her release leaving her languid and boneless like nothing else, she knows this. But right this moment? Right this moment there’s nothing but frustration and need. She looks down at herself, seeing the hands on her breasts, seeing the toy move between her legs over and over again, and she closes her eyes and whimpers because the sight excites her even further, but it is simply not enough.

And then Mikasa has the audacity to say, “I’m getting tired, can you come already?”

Annie growls, slamming her hips back against Mikasa. “I could if you’d just stop fucking teasing, goddammit!”

Mikasa chuckles, leaning up to bite her earlobe. “All right.”

All it takes for her to come is for Mikasa to quicken the speed of her thrusts, and the increased friction finally tips her over. Everything is a blur in the aftermath. She recalls being held tightly within Mikasa’s arms as she convulses through her orgasm, she recalls murmuring incoherently through laboured breaths, but when she comes to, she’s lying on her side on the bed, her skin still prickling with residual tremors. Facing the headboard, she musters her strength to roll over just in time to catch Mikasa standing at the foot of the bed, stripping off her shirt. She finds herself swallowing at the view of topless Mikasa, though she’s still wearing a bra, but it’s a treat nonetheless. The well sculpted arms and shoulders, the well defined abs, it makes her burn with respect and admiration. Only once does she see Mikasa completely nude waist up, but it had been from the back, and it was brief anyway.

She thanks the weather for the current opportunity, for even though it’s the first month of autumn, it’s one of those abnormally hot nights and Mikasa likely sweated through her shirt. She’s feeling awfully warm herself even though the perspiration on her skin is already starting to dry. It would be incredibly icky to put her clothes back on and go home like this. But they have a couple of other unsaid boundaries. First, the length of time Annie stays after they’re done, which is never more than half an hour. Second, that she never uses the shower. Granted, she decided the second one on her own, and she’s quite certain Mikasa wouldn’t object to her wanting to, but taking a shower means bringing her own towel, or having Mikasa give her one. That doesn’t feel right, it feels one step away from the spare toothbrush she has at her place for Eren, or the one he has in his place for her. It’s an unsaid boundary, but an important one.

“It’s really hot tonight,” Mikasa says suddenly as she opens up her wardrobe, probably for a change of clothes. “I’m going to take a shower. You can too, if you want. I’ll use the one outside so you can use mine, there’s a spare towel inside.”

She isn’t sure which of her reactions tip Mikasa off on her hesitance. That she doesn’t reply for long seconds, that she’s gone still as a statue, or the clearly dumbfounded look on her face. Whichever it is, Mikasa only smiles wryly, and lets out a soft sigh.

“It’s a shower, Annie. You’re obviously sweaty. It doesn’t have to be anything more than that.”

Mikasa says nothing more and leaves the room. Annie tilts her head up to look at the adjoining bathroom, still unsure, but finally the chill on her skin prompts her to her feet. A boundary is only a boundary if they both agree to it. If Mikasa doesn’t consider this one valid, then she shouldn’t need to either. And she does want to shower. So win-win. She comes out of the bathroom ten minutes later significantly refreshed and smelling like Mikasa’s shampoo. A regrettable mistake which she now makes a mental note to rectify by showering again tomorrow morning before she runs into anyone. Especially Eren. But it does smell nice, fresh and floral, and it reminds her of holding Mikasa close, or pressing her face into Mikasa's pillow. Dressing herself back in her own clothes, she exits the room to find Mikasa in the dining hall and when Mikasa notices her she waves her over.

“Sit,” Mikasa directs once she gets there, indicating the pulled out chair at the dining table.

She thinks she smells coffee, but the directive distracts her and she sits before she could even wonder why. A quick glance at the wall clock shows that it’s only been about fifteen minutes since they finished. She could afford to hang around for another fifteen minutes. Drink that cup of black coffee that Mikasa is now placing on the table before her. Have awkward conversation if Mikasa wants to. But when a small plate joins the coffee cup on the table, a small plate carrying a slice of cake, Annie becomes a statue once again. She stares at the cake, obviously cheesecake, she can tell that much from the cookie base, and she is utterly speechless. Why is there cake on the table before her? Why has she been given cake? Cheesecake too, with some sort of red syrup layer on top. She has accepted food and drink before, usually water, sometimes candy or cookies for the road, but cake?

It takes Mikasa placing down another set of cake and coffee on the table as she slips into the opposite seat for Annie to blink back into life. She clears her throat. “What...is this?”

Mikasa doesn’t answer, and she can only watch as Mikasa produces a red fruit and a fruit knife from the chair next to her and begins expertly peeling open the fruit with the knife. All along this process Mikasa says nothing until the fruit has been sliced open into five quarters. Then, using a dessert spoon, Mikasa scoops up a spoonful of the fruit’s flesh and places them on top of Annie’s cheesecake. Another spoon she spreads on the plate in a semi-circle around the cake. That done, Mikasa smiles, evidently pleased with herself. She proceeds to do the same with her own cake, but not before she finally answers her.

“Pomegranate cheesecake.”

Annie looks at the sliced open pomegranate on the table between them, then at the cake where clusters of the seeds now decorate it and the plate. “Pomegranate...cheesecake?”

Mikasa puts down the dessert spoon, frowning. “Were you joking when you said you like pomegranates?”

“No,” Annie shakes her head instantly. “I do really like pomegranates.”

“Then why are you reacting like that?”

She can’t help it, she blurts it out. “Why are you giving me cake?” And not just any cake too, but _pomegranate_ cheesecake. With _black coffee_ _._

“Because you like pomegranates? Is the cake the problem? Do you not like cheesecakes?”

Annie shakes her head again. “No, I’m fine with cheesecakes.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

Nothing per se, because there’s nothing wrong with the cake. Or the coffee. But everything at the same time, because it all depends on the intention. She inhales silently, unsure of how to frame the question. “You just...happen to have pomegranate cheesecake in your fridge?”

Mikasa’s frown deepens. “No? I didn’t just happen to have it, I made it yesterday, because the pomegranates in the market were nice and fresh.”

Handmade pomegranate cheesecake. That makes it even worse. “So you’re giving me this because I like pomegranates?”

Mikasa sighs, resting her chin on her palm and her elbow on the table as she rolls her eyes. “I don’t know what on earth is going through your mind right now Annie, but here’s how it is. I made the cake because there were nice and fresh pomegranates in the market yesterday. I’m going to give a third of the cake to Eren , and another third to Armin, but even with just a third left, it’s still a lot of cake. You’re here now, you like pomegranates, so I’m giving you a slice. Okay?”

The slight exasperation from Mikasa’s voice is what snaps her out of it. She picks up her dessert spoon. “Yeah okay. Sorry. I don’t know what’s going through my mind either.” She cuts off a hefty spoonful and brings it up the her mouth. This is just Mikasa being attentive again, just like with the doughnuts. She’s the one making a bigger deal out of this than she should. “Thanks for the cake.”

Flavor explodes in her mouth when she bites down on the cake as the sour of the cheese, the sweet of the pomegranate and the crunch of the cookie base mixes together into something heavenly. And it must show on her face because as Mikasa watches her from across the table, her lips spread into a slow smile.

“Good?”

It’s a simple question, and not even an inappropriate one, but it sends her stomach twisting into knots because that one line, asked just like that, is frequently used by Mikasa to check in on her during sex. And that’s definitely not what she wants to think about while having a giant bite of delicious cake in her mouth while Mikasa is staring at her. She swallows, the cake lodges in her throat because she hasn’t chewed it enough, and she nods vigorously while reaching for her coffee. It’s only once she puts her cup back down and takes in a deep breath that she notices Mikasa’s raised brows.

She clears her throat again. “It’s really good. Thanks.”

Mikasa doesn’t lower her brows, but she does chuckle lightly, and proceeds to eat her own cake. Annie does the same, cutting off another bite sized piece and mouthing over her spoon as she glances over at the clock again. The whole pomegranate exchange had taken a little over five minutes. So she has under ten minutes to finish her cake and coffee and leave.

“Have somewhere to be?”

Her eyes flit away from the clock and back to Mikasa.

“You keep glancing at the clock.”

“No, it’s just that I...” she trails off at Mikasa’s genuinely open expression, and she places down her spoon. Is she the one overthinking this, like with the shower? Has it never mattered to Mikasa how long she stays? It should. She knows it should. After all it’d be unthinkable to stay the night. So there must be a boundary. But in this case, just this case, she’s accepted the coffee and cake. Mikasa wouldn’t have offered it if she minds. Still trying to leave as soon as possible would be rude. She shakes her head. “No, I don’t have anywhere to be.”

Mikasa looks unconvinced but all the same she doesn’t pursue it as she reaches out to pick up a segment of the sliced open pomegranate on the table. “You can eat these too.”

“Right,” she says, and since she has put her spoon down, it seems awkward to pick it back up. So she takes a slice of the pomegranate and watches as Mikasa bites right into hers. Some of the seeds fall loose and onto her plate as Mikasa purses her lips together, and then her tongue peeks out to glide across them. The knots in her stomach twists tighter, and she looks down at her pomegranate. “Say, Mikasa, I’m the second person you’ve...been physical with, right?”

She looks up to Mikasa giving her an amused look. “Odd choice of words for you, but yes. You know this already.”

Annie ignores the jab, but amends her word choice. “You don’t fuck like someone with little sexual experience. You’re a massive tease. You’ve been a tease from the start.”

Mikasa smiles, but her eyes slide off to the side. “Not from the start. I honestly didn’t know what I was doing the first time. I tried to avoid touching you too seriously.”

“Oh...really?” She thinks back on their first encounter, of how Mikasa seemed to shy away from touching her erogenous zones. She remembers thinking that it was either teasing or inexperience. Apparently it’s the latter. “How did you go from that to becoming a massive tease?”

Mikasa shrugs. “I got curious. I liked your reactions. I watched porn.”

“You watched porn?”

“Lesbian porn.”

“Lesbian porn for straight men, or lesbian porn for lesbians?”

“There’s a difference?” Mikasa scowls. “Probably the first, I just watched to learn how to use a strap-on.”

“Seriously? You know porn is really bad at portraying realistic sex?”

“I do now. Probably why I hurt you then. It’s all hard and fast in porn.”

“Ah.” She remembers that too, with how unpleasant that had been. Only for Mikasa to return the very next day, and it’s a completely different experience. “So what, you watched actual lesbian porn for lesbians after that? Read erotic novels?”

“No,” Mikasa snorts. “I just listened to your body. Maybe that’s why I like to tease you. When you’re cursing and getting angry I know I’m doing something right.”

Annie feels the heat go up to her face. This is not the conversation to have while trying to eat things. She bites into her pomegranate anyway, chews it hard. Mikasa continues as well after a pause, but as Annie swallows the contents of her mouth, she finds her curiosity has been piqued. And the heat isn’t leaving her face. She nibbles at a few more pomegranate seeds.

“Do you get turned on? When you touch me?”

Mikasa looks up, then very deliberately, she places her pomegranate down and picks up her coffee. She takes a sip. “Sometimes.”

She feels her mouth going dry despite the juicy pomegranate seeds. “What do you do about it?”

“Most of the time they pass,” Mikasa answers, placing down her cup and picking her spoon back up. She cuts into the cake. “Other times, I masturbate after.”

Annie bites her tongue before she can ask ‘Do you think of me?’ because that’s irrelevant. And she knows she’d be disappointed if the answer is no. She puts down her fruit, swallows what’s left in her mouth, and takes a breath. “I can reciprocate you know.” Again, she bites back the ‘I want to’, because this isn’t a typical relationship. And so, unlike a typical partner, Mikasa wouldn’t be happy to know that.

Mikasa grows quiet, leaving the spoon where it’s wedged in the cake as she folds her arms. It’s an expected reaction, but unnerving at the same time. Finally, Mikasa sighs small, closing her eyes as she shakes her head. “No. I don’t want you to.”

Well, that’s a straight answer if there ever was one. It’s not even ‘you don’t have to’, but literally ‘I don’t want you to.’ Mikasa isn’t pulling her punches. And Annie can’t help feeling a little insulted. She crosses her arms as well. “Why?”

“Don’t take it the wrong way. I don’t dislike the idea of you reciprocating,” Mikasa says soothingly and immediately Annie feels silly. Just a moment ago she was concerned about Mikasa crossing some boundaries, yet here she is pushing another. “It’s the oxytocin. I don’t want to get attached to you.”

Part of her wants to scoff at Mikasa because oxytocin isn’t released just during orgasm. All the physical touching they do is more than enough. But at the same time it irritates her that Mikasa makes sense. Because while unsaid, there is one more understanding between them. That this thing they’re doing cannot go on forever. It has to come to an end at some point even if they haven’t decided when that end is. Maybe it's curiosity fueling Mikasa, or a need for physical intimacy because she doesn't have much of that in her life. Whatever it is, eventually the concern for Eren's well-being and the desire not to hurt him will trump everything else. So it’s wise of Mikasa to keep her distance, to do what it takes to not be emotionally invested. She should commend it, but on the flip side, she’s getting the full oxytocin hit every time. Where does that leave her?

“So it’s okay that I’m getting attached?”

Mikasa’s gaze locks onto hers, and she’s suddenly aware that she’s said something wrong. “Are you?”

Then she realizes she's been backed into a corner where there is only one right answer, and they both know what it is. Squaring her shoulders, she picks up her spoon and cuts her cake. “No. Of course not. I’ve had physical relationships before, I know how to handle it.”

“Good,” Mikasa replies. “Then perhaps this is simply my own safety net, because I’m not experienced like you. It’s easier for me to make the wrong associations.”

She nods because she can’t talk with cake in her mouth. But she no longer feels like talking anyway, not with the heaviness that has descended on her chest. Mikasa makes sense, and if reciprocation isn’t wanted that just means less work for her. She shouldn’t let it weigh on her. She eats her cake with haste, glad for Mikasa taking the cue and keeping silent. They don’t speak again until Annie is almost done with the supper, drinking the last of her coffee, about to get up and leave, when she notices the standing calendar perched on Mikasa’s kitchen counter top. The page it’s on shows the month of November, with the second and third weeks colored with green highlights.

Placing down the cup, she remembers that Mikasa did her dishes when she brought over the doughnuts. So wordlessly, she takes Mikasa’s equally empty plate and cup. Mikasa’s eyes widen slightly in surprise, but she says nothing and doesn’t stop her. She carries the dishes into the kitchen, passing the counter top on the way and getting a better look at the calendar. There is nothing written on it. There’s only the green highlights.

“Is something happening in November?”

Mikasa turns to look at her. “What?”

She gestures at the calendar as she places the dishes in the sink. “Two weeks are highlighted.”

“Oh, that. That’s when I’m going to Japan. For my annual visit home. Eren mentioned it before, remember?”

She does recall, yes, although she remembers what happened after that more keenly. “I see.”

“What about you and Eren?” Mikasa asks from her seat. “Have you decided on your anniversary vacation?”

“No,” she snaps. “We haven’t talked about it.”

Later, as she takes her seat in the mostly empty bus, she fishes out her phone and dials Eren’s number. Mikasa had a strange expression on her face after she answered her question and she’s not sure if that’s what’s bugging her, or the answer itself. Eren picks up after three rings.

“ _Hey Annie, what’s up?”_

“What are you doing?”

“ _Nothing much, just watching TV,”_ he answers, and she hears him shifting about as the drone of the television in the background grows softer. _“What about you?”_

“On the way home,” she responds, and then she quickly continues before he decides to ask from where. “Hey remember some time back you said that we should go on a vacation together?”

“ _..._ _Yeah?”_ Eagerness colors his voice.

The bus makes a turn at an intersection, leaving behind the road into Mikasa’s neighborhood. She watches the road until there is nothing left to see and then she clicks her tongue. “Let’s go for it.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oxytocin, if anybody is unaware, is frequently known as the love hormone or cuddle hormone because it is released during bonding activities such as hugging/snuggling and orgasm. It is said to serve a function in forming attachment, affection, and trust. That's an incredibly simplified explanation so do look it up yourself if you'd like to know more. So in the context of this story, Mikasa is refusing reciprocation from Annie in order to hopefully avoid the oxytocin surge that comes from orgasm that would lead to her forming bonds with Annie. Likewise, kissing on the lips. Mikasa associates that action with having romantic feelings so she doesn't want to allow that. For those waiting for them to kiss...I'm sorry. It will take a while.
> 
> By the way, please indulge my humor, this chapter could be alternatively titled Pomegranate Cheesecake, for how often it is mentioned. I didn't even know pomegranate cheesecakes exists prior to this.


	9. he holds me in his big arms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Few things to take note of this chapter. There's a popular fanon that Annie is Russian in real world AUs. I have seen her represented as other nationalities as well, but Russian seems the most common. And so, I have also made her Russian in this story. But it really doesn't matter in the grander scale of things. Just details. Likewise, not once have I ever made known where this story is actually taking place. That's because I really don't have a specific place in mind, and I don't want to pinpoint either. In extension to that, I also have not named the place/country that Eren and Annie go on a vacation to in this chapter. I had a place in mind when I wrote, but ultimately I left it ambiguous so it could be anywhere that matches the description. So headcanon as you like.
> 
> \--
> 
> Chapter title is a line from the song Video Game by Lana Del Rey. I listen to the cover by Silver Swans.

“You know,” Eren says, looking at her over the top of his laptop as they sit together in the cafe, looking up places to go and corresponding flight and accommodation information, “I thought you forgot all about it.”

She sips her coffee. “I just wasn’t sure about the timing. But I’ve cleared out my schedule for the second and third weeks of November.”

“Second and third weeks of November,” he echoes, picking up his bagel and taking a bite. “Hey, that’s when Mikasa is going to Japan. Wow, when I suggested that we go on a vacation instead of me going with her again, I didn’t think it’d actually be at the same time.”

She makes a noise of acknowledgment and nothing else. She doesn’t know why she named those dates herself. To not have free Thursdays? Feels stupid.

“It’s already October. Sure you don’t want to go for end February or early March instead? You know, when we actually got together?”

“No,” she shakes her head. “It’s hard to get time off at the start of the year.” Well whatever the reason, apparently she’s determined on November.

“Well okay. Anywhere you’d like to visit?”

“You don’t have one in mind already?”

He leans back on his chair, puckering his lips in that way that tells her he does have something in mind, but he’s wondering whether to mention it. Eventually he does. “I was thinking that maybe we could visit your hometown.”

“What? Russia’s freezing at this time of the year.”

“It’s not that bad yet according to the forecast.”

“Why do you even want to go there? There’s nothing there.”

He shrugs. “It’s your hometown. Your dad is still there, right?”

She tenses at the mention of her father. “My dad?” It’s the first time the subject of her family has been brought up again ever since their very first formality talk from before they started dating. She doesn’t like talking about family. She still doesn’t. “What does he have to do with anything?”

“Nothing in particular,” he replies quickly as though sensing the slippery territory he’s in. “I just thought you’d want to visit. And I could meet him, or something. But you’re right. The weather is a bit punishing. Maybe another time.”

He brushes off the topic, busying himself with typing something and clicking away at his laptop. But she’s heard enough, and she drinks a mouthful of her coffee. There’s only one reason he’d want to meet her father, and once again she chagrins at the speed he’s taking this relationship, and the level of his seriousness. At least he hasn’t yet suggested that she meet his father, and she’s thankful for that. But if she remembers right, Eren’s father is a travelling doctor. Never in one place for too long, and in extension, very rarely coming home. So perhaps it is more accurate to say that it isn’t that he hasn’t thought to bring her to meet his father, but that he hasn’t yet have the chance to even suggest it.

She decides to ask anyway. “Where’s your dad now?”

“Beats me,” he answers with a roll of his eyes. “I haven’t spoken to him in months. Mikasa probably knows though. She keeps a tab on everybody.”

Eren’s situation appears to be in direct opposition to hers. For him, his father is the one that keeps away, travelling everywhere in what seems to be perpetual wanderlust while for her, she’s the one staying away. But even if she had never left Russia, even if she never decided not to go back, they would probably still be estranged. That’s simply the type of relationship she has with him. He is ever present, she can’t call him absent the way Eren’s dad is, but it’s all about obedience and approval, and completely lacking in warmth. It would probably be easier if he actually was absent.

“Well anyway, do you have any objections to anywhere except your home country?”

She drinks more of her coffee, letting the sensation of the liquid going down her throat bring her back to the cafe. Then she shakes her head. “No. I’m okay with anywhere else.”

“Alright,” Eren smiles. “I’ll handle the rest then. I’ll let you know once I have everything arranged.”

So she leaves everything to him, trusting him with the task, and giving him room to surprise her. Since it is his idea from the start, and he’s more into it than she is, no doubt he has some ideas of what he wants out of the vacation. As long as they stay away from her hometown or anywhere equally freezing, she really has no preference where they go. Perhaps she should be more involved with the planning, make sure he doesn’t go overboard with the whole anniversary thing, but the mention of her father had evoked a sense of disquiet within her. She can’t concentrate or put it from her mind, and worse, the feeling persists.

Not even long hours in the gym and in the ring—which is usually effectively distracting—helps her, for when she gets to the point where she’s usually too tired to think, she instead hears her father’s voice commanding her not to stop. No breaks. You can do better than that. She works herself to exhaustion before the voice goes away, only for it come back in her dreams. She hates it, she hates that Eren brought it up, and she hates that it won’t go away. Somehow, she makes it to Thursday and the first words she says to Mikasa when the door opens is—

“Distract me.”

And Mikasa does. She doesn’t ask about the dark circles under her eyes, or her fatigue, or what she needs distraction from. Mikasa just takes her into her room and distracts her. And it works. There is no teasing this time. Mikasa brings her to her first orgasm shockingly quickly with practiced efficiency. Then, as she lies there in blissful relief, muscles relaxed with nothing in her head but the gratification, Mikasa goes again. Now she takes her time, building her slowly, unhurriedly, but not to the point of agony. There is a perfect balance of giving her just enough to make her body quiver with need, and holding off just enough to turn that need into sweet torment. She finds herself not even minding when Mikasa edges her once, because they’re front to front and she’s holding on tightly to Mikasa, pulling her close to encase herself around Mikasa’s warmth, and Mikasa is indulging her. If only to prolong this, she’d let Mikasa edge her as many times as she wants.

But it doesn’t last for when she reaches her next high, Mikasa lets her crest. She comes powerfully, clutching Mikasa close as she rides the waves of her orgasm. Her fingers dig into any bit of Mikasa’s flesh they can find at her neck and her waist, while her legs wrap around Mikasa’s hips, locking her in place as she drags out her release on Mikasa’s fingers. That Mikasa allows this while pressing close to her, littering airy kisses on her neck and the back of her ear, somehow lengthens her climax even more. It feels like forever before her shaking stops and she can finally take in a calming breath as she loosens her hold on Mikasa.

Here’s the part she usually reaches up to her partner’s face, kiss them thank you for the amazing orgasm, kiss them in general, because kissing is nice, and then flip them over to reciprocate what she’s received. But Mikasa doesn’t want any of that. No reciprocation, and no getting attached. And oxytocin isn’t known as the cuddle hormone for nothing. When Mikasa makes no move to separate herself despite her having loosed her hold, Annie doesn’t read too much into it. She knows that sometimes during sex, behavior don’t quite line up with words precisely because of hormones. But she knows what Mikasa wants, stated during a time of clarity and consciousness. She shares the responsibility to ensure Mikasa isn’t pulled into something she doesn’t want.

She moves, just a slight shift, and it breaks the cuddle bubble that Mikasa is in. But unlike the springing separation that she expects, Mikasa merely retracts herself slowly and settles beside her, staying on the bed.

“Are you all right?” Mikasa asks.

“Yeah,” she answers, sitting up and throwing her legs over the side. Seeing her clothes strewn around the room, on the floor and on the bed, she makes a grab for them, immediately pulling them on. “Thanks for this. I needed it.”

“Sure,” Mikasa replies, and then she gets off the bed and leaves the room.

Annie herself leaves right after she’s done dressing, not giving Mikasa an opportunity to offer her coffee, or tea, or cake, or water, or anything. She goes directly home and for the first time in a few days, she sleeps well. For whatever reason, whether the passage of time or Mikasa’s successful distraction, thoughts of her father wanes after that. With Eren not bringing it up again, a semblance of normalcy returns.

The next week, she does the same thing at Mikasa’s. Leaving immediately after they’re done. Mikasa follows her to the door this time, holding it open for her. However, just as she’s about to walk out Mikasa grabs her arm. She turns, startled.

“Did I upset you or something?”

She answers despite the odd question. “No? Why would you think that?”

Mikasa frowns, like she doesn’t believe the answer, but then she sighs, releasing her arm. “Never mind, it’s probably my imagination.”

But Mikasa’s words stay with her all throughout her journey home. What does it mean? Why would Mikasa think she upset her? The only strand she can connect is that she’s been leaving immediately after sex the past two weeks. But she had been doing that in the beginning too. It is only recently that she started hanging around a bit longer, and then the pomegranate cheesecake happened. That had been a wake up call. They are both too comfortable. Mikasa treats some boundaries too loosely, while having others that are apparently untouchable. She’s the exact opposite, wanting boundaries that Mikasa doesn’t care for, while pushing the ones that Mikasa does. Well, no more. Neither of them are going to get what they want. She needs to reassert the boundaries before blurring happens.

It’d be more convincing if she could stop staring at Mikasa though. It’s strange, she hasn’t had the urge to stare at or think of Mikasa in the longest time, since they started their Thursday meetings, to be specific. But here, with Eren excitedly going on to Mikasa about their joined yet separate vacations, she stares. Quite openly too. Is it because she’s still wondering about what Mikasa said before, or something else? She doesn’t know, and she doesn’t stop staring, not even when Mikasa catches it twice or thrice, each subsequent look becoming more disapproving, probably in the vein of ‘stop staring Eren will notice’. But Eren doesn’t notice, and as he hasn’t yet decided where they are going to go, she doesn’t have much to contribute in conversation anyway.

Despite Eren not noticing, clearly, Mikasa is unhappy about it regardless. Because the next Thursday, she is turned away at the door. That is a first, and for a while, she doesn’t know quite how to react.

“Maybe not today,” Mikasa says, only half opening her door, her body clearly blocking it.

“Oh.” Annie stuffs her hands into her sweater pockets, blinking several times. “Okay.”

Mikasa has a pensive, contemplative expression. It doesn’t seem to be about the blatant staring, but she’s never been great at reading Mikasa. Like how she couldn’t anticipate that Mikasa would be this upset by that. Or maybe Mikasa is on her period. But she’s not receiving anyway, it shouldn’t matter. Or maybe Mikasa is just not in the mood. She’s definitely allowed to say no so Annie’s not sure why this is bugging her so. Not today. That’s that.

“Sorry I couldn’t let you know before you got here,” Mikasa says.

She shakes her head. Mikasa couldn’t have done that anyway, not unless they run into each other somewhere, or Mikasa deliberately goes to her place to tell her this. Because they still don’t have each other’s numbers. But she doesn’t offer it, nor does Mikasa ask.

“Right, I’ll be going then.”

“Wait,” Mikasa calls, reaching behind her door and grabbing her car keys. “Let me send you home at least.”

“No it’s fine,” she replies, already backing away. There’s an awkward tension, the kind she thought they had put behind them, and she sure isn’t about to let it perpetuate in the confines of a car.

Mikasa pauses and she takes the chance, turning around and jogging away. It feels like she’s running away, though it puzzles her what she’s running from. Perhaps it is the sense of rejection because Mikasa has never denied her entry before. Perhaps it’s the awkward tension. Whatever it is, she stays away from Mikasa’s place the next week. She reasons that the vacation is two weeks away, Eren is coming over or calling her more often, so it’s probably a good idea to keep some distance. It sounds better in her head than acknowledging that there is some distance, and she doesn’t know how it got there.

Eren finally tells her where they’re going the week before the flight and whether by coincidence or on purpose, it’s the same day Mikasa is flying out to Japan, with only a couple of hours in between their departures. It makes sense then, for them to travel to the airport together. Armin picks her up in his SUV which is frankly huge for a driver his size, with Mikasa already in the front passenger seat and Eren in the back. She doesn’t talk much after greetings so the entire journey to the airport is mostly filled with an enthusiastic Eren and Armin conversing, with the occasional Mikasa sprinkled in.

“What’s wrong? You’re very quiet today, more than usual,” Eren remarks once they’re in the airport grounds.

She resists pointing out that she’s always quiet. Her current level of activity is not at all unusual. His level of activity is the one that is unusual. He’s excited, understandably so, but she doesn’t quite share it. And she can’t quite tell him that either.

“Probably flight jitters,” Mikasa supplies suddenly from the side, before coming forward to adjust the scarf on Eren’s neck.

“Hey, stop that,” Eren squirms away from Mikasa.

“My boarding gate is the other side of yours, and your flight is earlier, so let’s part ways here,” Mikasa says. “Take care of yourself, keep warm and try not to get into troub—”

“Jeez Mikasa, I’m an adult,” Eren snaps, stepping back and brushing Mikasa’s hand away. “I know how to take care of myself. Enough mothering.”

“Right,” Mikasa smiles. “Well, enjoy your vacation. Text me when you get there.”

“Of course. You too.”

Mikasa meets her eyes finally, but the expected civil exchange does not happen. There is only that same contemplative look from before, and then Mikasa walks off, pulling her luggage along. Apparently, parting words for her has been lumped in together with Eren’s. Eren similarly takes her hand to steer her to where they need to go. But she doesn’t turn away from Mikasa until the crowd swallows her. Does she wish Mikasa said something? Perhaps. Does she wish _she_ had said something? Definitely. Because now it feels like they’re cold shouldering each other and it leaves her irritated for the entire length of the flight. It isn’t until they’ve landed, and Eren is avidly pointing out all the other things not already in their planning that they could do from what he gleans at the tourist centre, that she realizes she’s being a sullen ass and she brightens up.

Whatever is going on between her and Mikasa, they’re miles apart now. She can deal with it later. It’s not important to think about it now. For now, she needs to focus on Eren and what they came here for. To spend time with each other, and to celebrate a milestone in their relationship by creating more milestones. While she doesn’t quite subscribe to the idea of placing so much significance on simple things, at the very least she gets to go a place she’s never been to before, and with company she genuinely is fond of. She can enjoy that if nothing else.

They spend the first three days being typical tourists, visiting touted places of interest, learning the history in museums and cultural shows, sampling the local fare. It’s only after they’ve had a taste of the place do they determine what else they want to do. Eren prefers the wilder side of things, so they go on nature related activities, anything that allows him to interact with the environment. She prefers more sedate things, people watching the locals, exploring back alleys, nooks and crannies, anything that allows her to see how the people here truly live. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t enjoy what he likes, or he hers, so they take turns, and in between traveling they talk. The level of talking that they haven’t done in a while. That is deeper than usual.

She expects at some point that something will happen. Some sort of grand romantic gesture from Eren in celebration of their anniversary. Because she is aware of the depth of his feelings even though he hasn’t yet made it known to her. And what better opportunity than now? It seems too good a chance to pass. But five days on, with nothing of the sort happening, she second guesses herself. There isn’t even a mention of anything unusual in their plans. Could this really just be a holiday together with no bundled surprises? There are still some days to come, some days in which the grand gesture could be hidden. But for now she waits and contemplates how she should react when it comes.

Reacting with joy would intensify his feelings, increase the significance of this anniversary and this relationship. Not reacting with joy would hurt his feelings, and sour this entire experience, probably for the both of them. It’s a tightrope, but one she chose to walk on herself. She can only hope that there is no grand romantic gesture. That is the simplest solution.

Now they sit in a small eatery on the seventh day of the vacation, taking a break in between the morning activities and the evening music festival they’ll be going to later. Eren is minding his phone, having finished his meal, and is taking random photos of his surroundings. He’s been doing that the entire time, actually. It’s not even pictures of them together, which they only took a few, but really random pictures. He doesn’t seem the type at first glance.

“Is there really anything nice to take a picture of here?” she asks, looking around their surroundings.

“Huh?” he looks up at her. “Oh, no. I’m not taking pictures to keep. I’m updating Mikasa on what we’re doing. Much easier than telling her the details. She’ll get the idea. She does the same too.”

“Ah. I see.”

“Yeah. Here look, she’s currently in some shrine. Really impressive, but not my thing,” he says, handing his phone over to her. “I bet she’s visiting all of them now that she doesn’t have to mind what I like.”

She takes the offered phone, with the messenger app open on Mikasa’s chat, and browses through the pictures that Mikasa has sent. There are beautiful sceneries, temples with that distinctively Japanese architecture, large arch-like structures over a backdrop of red, some food stalls surrounded by people, and even up close of autumn leaves. Mikasa herself is not in any of the pictures. As she scrolls down the chat she sees that Eren does the same, sending pictures of sceneries, places, food, but none of himself. There’s barely any text, most of which originates from Mikasa, but she willfully skips over them. Reading them feels like an invasion of privacy.

Reaching the end of the chat, she hands the phone back to Eren. “You should send a picture of yourself. Show her what you’re doing. Anybody can send pictures of places and food.”

He hums in consideration, taking the phone back. “I guess...you know what? You’re right. Let’s send her a picture of the both of us. We’re here together after all.”

He’s dragging his chair next to hers before she could protest and since she suggested it anyway, she resigns herself and looks up at the phone as Eren snaps. Then he plants his lips on her cheek and snaps again. He grins at her startle. “That one’s for keeps!”

Immediately he goes right back to tapping away on his phone, so she doesn’t even get to react to his candid picture. But sitting right next to him, she can see exactly what’s happening on his screen. He sends the first picture to Mikasa, adding a text beneath saying _Annie says hi._

 _Mikasa is typing..._ instantly fires up and Annie finds herself drawing in a deep breath. They haven’t spoken in a while, and technically they’re not speaking now either. This is happening through proxy, there’s no way Mikasa would say anything specific beyond replying to the greeting. A text pops up. _Is Annie reading this?_ Eren replies easily. _Yeah._ _Mikasa is typing..._ appears again and then a picture pops up. She stares at it, her eyes widening when she makes out what it is.

“The hell? A doughnut?”

She absolutely shares Eren’s sentiment. It’s not even just a doughnut, but a doughnut that has been bitten off once. This is obviously meant for her, what with Mikasa asking if she’s reading this just prior, but she doesn’t get it. Why a doughnut? Why a doughnut missing a bite?

“Is this a jab at you?” Eren asks, scrutinizing the picture as he types something in reply. “Does she even know you like doughnuts?”

Yes, yes she does. She knows her favorite ones too, Annie thinks. But the question is clearly rhetorical for Eren doesn’t wait for an answer before finishing what he’s typing and pressing send. She reads it. _Why are you sending a picture of a doughnut?_

Mikasa replies. _You mentioned she likes them._ Eren moves to reply something else but a picture pops up, followed closely by another. These two sends a shiver running down her spine. The first is a slice of yellow watermelon, the second is a green apple. Both have a bite taken off of them.

“What is she doing? Why is she sending pictures of things she's eating?” Eren shifts on his chair in a mix of confusion and irritation.

Annie just swallows, distinctly recognizing the significance of the fruits. It’s the exact same ones mentioned when they talked about lubricant flavors all that time ago. But knowing what they are doesn’t answer the rest of the questions popping up in her head. She agrees with Eren, why is Mikasa sending these? Is a white strawberry going to appear next? Is it supposed to be funny? Why are they all bitten into? Is that innuendo? Sexual innuendo? Is Mikasa flirting with her? And then; why would Mikasa flirt with her? More importantly, why, if indeed she’s flirting with her, would Mikasa do it through Eren’s chat? She has to be reading this wrong. Aren’t they not talking to each other for whatever reason? They’re just random fruits. They have to be.

Another picture pops up. A white strawberry. Bitten in half. She freezes.

“Why am I getting the feeling she’s picking a fight with you?” Eren scowls. “She can be so childish sometimes. I’ll tell her to quit it. Sorry.”

Her reflex is to stop him, but she gets as far as a twitch in her arm before she stops herself because what does she say? How can she possibly tell him Mikasa is not picking a fight without explaining why she thinks so? She can’t even say it’s funny because to his knowledge, Mikasa and her aren’t even friends. There are no inside jokes. So she does nothing as he furiously types away, only hoping that he doesn’t snap at Mikasa too badly. Although Mikasa should know better. What is she even thinking? She can’t understand Mikasa at all. Her eyes drop upon her cup of coffee on the table, half empty. She picks it up to finish it when the black of the liquid hits her.

She lowers the cup, staring at it. Black coffee. An accompanying image of cheesecake comes to mind. She glances at Eren, still typing his message, and then back to the cup. Making up her mind in that instance, she takes out her own phone and snaps a picture of her coffee. He doesn’t tell her what he replies to Mikasa, or show her any more of Mikasa’s replies. When they later leave the eatery to head towards the festival location, they pass by a small fruit shop. Eren is needlessly annoyed by fruits now, but almost invitingly she spies a cut open pomegranate on display. She lets him walk ahead and snaps a picture of that too.

The next morning, Eren deviates from their planned schedule. They are supposed to go into the neighboring town known for its specialty souvenirs to do some shopping, but at the bus station he suddenly suggests going to another town on the opposite side instead. She quickly puts two and two together and figures out that this is the grand romantic gesture. It exists after all. He claims to have read about said town being really beautiful and picturesque as it is situated by a lake, but they’ve seen so many beautiful and picturesque places here that that reason doesn’t quite hold up. That he is nervous and fidgety only lends credence to her deduction. But she can’t think of a reason to disagree with his suggestion. Souvenir shopping can be done tomorrow too, before they are due to fly back the day after. So lacking alternatives besides direct confrontation, she follows after him.

It isn’t until they’ve set foot in the indeed picturesque town that he tells her what they’re truly here for. And it is not the grand romantic gesture she expects. It’s far worse.

“So, we’re here to meet someone,” Eren tells her and she’s instantly tense.

She doesn’t like the sound of this already. Meet someone? Who could it be that he wouldn’t tell her beforehand? And then suddenly she knows.

“My dad.”

“Your dad,” she deadpans, and her anger rises. “Did you plan this?”

“What?”

“Did you bring us here, to this country, because your dad is here?”

His brows furrow like he doesn’t understand why she’s angry. “Not initially. Look, I was going through options with Mikasa, and when I mentioned here, she told me that my dad is here too. So I thought I’d bring you to meet him.”

“Why?”

“Why? Why not?” Eren huffs. “Annie, my dad never comes home. He’s always here, there, everywhere. Since we’re here anyway now and we’ve been dating almost a year, why not? Who knows when else we’ll get a chance.”

His explanation makes everything click into place. Mikasa’s pensiveness, both on the day she didn’t let her in and in the airport. The distancing. It’s because Mikasa knows that Eren intends to take their relationship one step further by introducing her to his father. So that means this thing they’re doing has to stop. But Mikasa couldn’t tell her why because no doubt Eren wants this to be a surprise. So it is over now? Just like that? Without her knowledge, without her even having any say? She sighs, bringing her hands up to her face to rub at it.

“Annie, I don’t get it. What’s wrong?”

Annie drops her hands, resists fisting them. “You should have told me, that’s what’s wrong.”

“Okay, you’re right,” Eren concedes, spreading out his arms in a placating manner. “I’m sorry for springing this up on you like this. I should have given you time to prepare.”

She looks at him, knows it has nothing to do with preparation. She simply doesn’t want to take this step. Not right now. And maybe, not with him.

Eren reads the hesitance right off her face. “You don’t want to.”

He’s hurt and confused, and it is a prickle in her chest. But lying here will only make it worse for them both. So she shakes her head. “No. I don’t want to.”

He deflates. “Oh. Okay.” He looks around like he doesn’t know what to do, and then he looks at his watch. “Well, fine. I don’t get it but here’s what we’ll do. You can stay here, and I’ll go see him. I can’t blow him off, I haven’t seen him in forever now and he’s waiting already. So just let me go meet him for a bit then we can go back, all right?”

Now she just feels bad having cut short his meeting with the dad he hasn’t seen for months. And to disappoint them both probably, by not showing up. She could tell him not to mind her, to take his time, but somehow she doesn’t think that’s going to happen. She sighs. “I’ll go with you. I’ll go with you, but don’t make this about us.”

He does a poor job of hiding his joy, even as he’s reassuring her that she doesn’t have to, that she can stay elsewhere and wait, because obviously, he does want her to. So she follows him to the small diner where the meeting is taking place. She goes so that he can spend some time with an always away father and she hopes that him knowing she doesn’t actually want to be there is enough to keep his enthusiasm in check.

The meeting isn’t terrible. Eren’s father, Grisha, is a well mannered man with a sophisticated look to boot. But of course, he’s a doctor. She’s not sure why she expects otherwise. Beyond greetings and some courtesy questions however, the conversation moves from her to Eren and it isn’t long before she feels like a third wheel. Which is well enough. Perhaps Eren is being considerate of her feelings, or perhaps he just has a lot to say to his father and was just using introducing her as an excuse to meet in the first place. Whatever is it, she is content to be left mostly alone as neither Eren nor his father bring up the topic of their relationship. Her presence does seem to keep Eren calm during the few moments it gets heated though, mostly around the subject of Grisha’s absence. One look at her and Eren keeps it together. Maybe that’s another reason he wants her there. She keeps herself quiet however and only towards the end of the meeting does the conversation veer into a subject of interest and she pays attention for real.

“So Mikasa is by herself now, in Japan?” Grisha asks.

“Yeah,” Eren answers. “Having fun on her own, visiting shrines and temples and all that.”

Grisha hums. “Perhaps next year I shall join her. And maybe come home together with her after that. Stay until the new year. What do you think of that?”

“Really?” Eren sits up straighter in his seat. “You’ll do that?”

His eyes slide over to her just briefly, gone the next instance, but she catches it. And she catches the meaning behind it too.

“Yes, you’re right, Eren. Perhaps it’s time to go home for a bit.”

Eren brightens. She frowns. This is exactly why she doesn’t want to meet his father, even when the focus of this meeting isn’t their relationship. An expectation has now been set, and most likely, Eren will want to solidify it in the one year before his father returns home. Upping the seriousness of their relationship? Engagement? Marriage? Her mind reels against the notion. She’s absolutely not ready for that. Will her feelings change in this one year? Or is this more like a deadline now?

“Well then,” Grisha says while standing up, “It’s a pleasure to meet you Annie. Please continue getting along with my children.”

She stands up too, reflexively, before she processes his words. And then it hits her for the first time, even though she does know this already, but the awareness finally catches up to her. Grisha is Mikasa’s father too, technically. She takes his outstretched hand. “The pleasure is mine, sir.”

They don’t talk much on the journey back to the hotel, or do much at all for the rest of the day. They eat, she walks around for a bit on her own taking random pictures on her phone, before finally she returns to their hotel room. Eren is already inside waiting for her.

“Annie,” he springs to his feet from where he’s seated on the bed. “Hey, I’m sorry I arranged that behind your back. I really should have told you.”

If there’s anyone who should be sorry for doing things behind the other’s back, it’s her. What he’s done can’t even compare to the things she’s done. That she got angry in the moment is excusable, staying angry would make her a hypocrite. She sighs, moving past him to the armchair in the corner where she sits, pulling her knees up and hugging them to her chest.

“It’s fine, Eren. It’s done now. Your dad is a nice person. I’m glad to have met him.”

He is the man who took Mikasa in after her parents died, however it was they died. She wonders what exactly led to that.

“Really? You’re not angry?”

“I’m not angry. I promise.”

She’s not angry, but she needs to seriously consider what to do about this situation. She urges Eren into the shower as she sits on the armchair to ponder. To allow Eren’s misconceptions to continue, or to end it all here before it gets worse. She promised Mikasa not to leave Eren because of his inadequacy in bed, but this isn’t it. This is about him wanting a commitment she doesn’t. And she may have caused him to think otherwise by suggesting this trip. She’s not big on anniversaries, she remembers not being keen on the idea of it when he first brought it up too. So why had she been the one to bring it up again?

Her thoughts are scattered when Eren’s phone beeps and vibrates on the table next to her armchair. She glances over at it, seeing the notification from the messenger app pop up. Curiosity swells in her chest, and she’s not sure why. She’s always respected privacy because she demands it from others, but seeing that notification, hearing the water going in the shower, she reaches over and taps the screen, opening up the notification’s preview. Maybe she needs a distraction. And a distraction is exactly what she finds. It’s from Mikasa, the message short enough she can read its entirety just from the preview.

_How did it go?_

Of course Mikasa would know, and of course she would ask about it. She reads the line over and over again until the screen goes black, and then she grabs the phone. Pressing the home button, the screen comes to life once again and she inputs the four digit password that she’s seen so many times now that she’s memorized it. The phone unlocks, and hastily, she does what she had wanted to do months ago but never did. She opens up Eren’s contacts, scrolls down to Mikasa, and copies the number into her own phone. That done, she places Eren’s phone back on the table and focuses on her own, adding Mikasa into her contacts and opening up a chat. To think, she once believed she would never have a use for Mikasa’s number. But now, she looks for the picture of her half drunk black coffee from yesterday, and she sends it.

Nothing happens for a while, even after the app tells her that Mikasa has seen the picture. She waits a little longer, and then decides to identify herself. As far as Mikasa is concerned, an unidentified number just sent her a picture of coffee. Of course she’d be wary. Mikasa might even think it spam and block her. That would be needlessly embarrassing. But just as she’s about to do just that, _Mikasa is typing..._ pops up.

_Annie?_

Her heart skips a beat. Mikasa figured it out it’s her. Just from coffee. She scrolls through her gallery, and sends the pomegranate this time. The response she gets is also a picture. A slice of cheesecake with a portion of the tip cleanly bitten off. Just like the watermelon, the apple, the strawberry, and the doughnut.

_You knew about it._

She doesn’t provide context because if Mikasa is sharp enough to figure out who she is from black coffee, she’s sharp enough to figure out what she means. And she’s right.

_Yes._

_I hated the surprise._

_Oh._

Oh? Just oh? She sighs, feeling a certain frustration build inside her. This is something she hates too. Is Mikasa being like this because in her mind, they’re done? Well, it’s not done for her. Not until they talk about it.

_Why did you want me to see those pictures?_

_They reminded me of you, that’s all._

She feels her face heat up as she reads Mikasa’s reply. What a bold statement. Or it would be, if not for the _that’s all._ It makes the entire sentence aloof, makes _they reminded me of you_ mean nothing. And it is confusing. This detachment thing that Mikasa does. By itself it’s fine, she even understands Mikasa’s need to be that way. But the problem is that Mikasa is not always detached. Sometimes Mikasa is kind to the point of indulgence. Sometimes it feels like their relationship is not just physical, that there is an element of care. And other times, Mikasa would turn around and become detached again, throwing around a _that’s all_ to show how little this means to her.

She’s had enough of that. Be detached or not. She can’t do both. She doesn’t want to do both, and it’s disorienting when the switch happens that it leads her to do stupid things for equilibrium. Maybe she needs to adjust better, or maybe, maybe, she shouldn’t need to adjust at all.

_I was upset._

_?_

_You asked me a while back if you did something to upset me. I said no. But I was upset._

_What did I do?_

_Your detachment. It’s not wrong, but it upset me. Because sometimes you’re kind, and it always throws me off when you switch between the two._

_I see. Sorry._

An apology isn’t exactly what she’s seeking for, and it doesn’t help that Mikasa is still sounding detached even as she’s apologizing for it. Maybe this really means nothing to Mikasa. Or maybe Mikasa is still under the impression that things are over now that she’s met Eren’s father. But if Mikasa knew all along that Eren was going to do that, if Mikasa was putting distance between them because of that, then why would she go around taking deliberate pictures of things that remind her of her? It’s not at all like her own opportunistic pictures of the coffee and pomegranate either. Everything Mikasa has shown her has a bite taken off of them. That shows effort and intention. Would anyone really put effort and intention into _that’s all?_

Her thumbs hover over her keyboard as she types carefully. She wants to know that it means something. She needs to know that it means something. That Mikasa thinks of her too.

_Do you think of me when you masturbate?_

_What?? Annie, this is such a dangerous trail. Delete that._

_Answer me first and then I will._

The response is not immediate like the previous ones. In fact, if not for the _Mikasa is typing..._ she would think that Mikasa doesn’t plan to answer at all, that the question crossed a line. She can even imagine Mikasa glaring at the phone, rolling her eyes in exasperation. But even though it takes a while, long enough for it to seem like Mikasa is writing an essay, or an angry rant, an answer does show up, and it is only one word.

_Yes._

She takes a slow breath, feeling the warmth in her face spread to the rest of her body.

_Now delete that._

The instantaneous follow up makes her snicker. Nevertheless, she’s satisfied, and she reaches up to delete her question and anything else that sounds remotely suspicious. Mikasa takes her cue, deleting all of her responses moments later except the picture of the cheesecake. It’s probably even more suspicious to have a chat full of deleted messages, but she resists saying so. Instead, she selects all the random pictures she took just before, and she dumps them into the chat. A confused emoticon pops up from Mikasa’s side, before Mikasa once again follows her cue with her own photo dump. Annie watches as Mikasa’s pictures appear in bundles of ten, and with a smile, she types _Thanks Mikasa_ before she leisurely begins to browse through them.

It is through those pictures that she instantly recognizes that Mikasa’s new heavy black coat, tastefully lined with silver studs on the cuff and the shoulders, which now hangs on Eren’s coat rack, is the same one on a display mannequin in what looks to be a goth inspired fashion shop in one of the pictures she saw. It’s a strange thing to notice, but it does confirm a long time hunch she’s had about Mikasa. That Mikasa is into goth. Or is a goth. It would explain the abundance of black colored clothes and things in general. The only element missing is the make-up and the black nail polish. But Mikasa does do a lot of cooking and baking, so maybe she’s just against nail polish in general. As for the make-up, whatever the reason, she’s glad to be able to see the pink of Mikasa’s lips.

Armin watching her from his seat next to Mikasa snaps her out of her staring, and she smiles at him. He smiles back, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, like he’s still deep in thought. So she turns her head to look at Eren beside her, observes his endless animated chatter about all the things they’d done on vacation, and she keeps her eyes on him. It’s the first Sunday after getting back, and although it’s been two days she still feels somewhat tired. Yet, when Sunday comes she goes over to Eren’s as usual, and today Armin is here too. It is with him that Eren is mostly gushing to about the fields of green, the hot springs and geysers, the mighty rain forests, the crystalline lakes and oceans. But she’s heard it all before, and she is not quite as enchanted, so she just listens.

Eventually, Armin is the first to leave, citing an early day tomorrow. A while later, Mikasa makes her move too. She watches as Mikasa pulls on her new coat, thinks that it looks good on her, and then decides that she should probably take her leave as well. But as soon as the door closes on Mikasa’s exit, Eren takes her hand gently.

“Hey, can we talk for a bit?”

She sees no reason to say no, so she lets him pull her over to the couch where she sits. “What is it?”

It’s not until they’re both seated down that she notices the heavy atmosphere about him and she dreads what he wants to talk about. But it’s too late now to suddenly change her mind. If he brings up the topic of deepening their relationship again, she can’t be sure what would she do. He takes both her hands in his, enveloping them in loose hold. Then he looks at her face, giving her hands a soft squeeze.

“I’m really sorry about the thing with my dad,” he says.

That’s not what she’s expecting. She smiles small, if only to comfort the remorse she sees in his eyes. “I told you it’s fine.”

He shakes his head. “No it isn’t. I was being really impatient, wasn’t I? I was just charging forward on my own without thinking of how you felt. I’m sorry.” He drops his gaze as he continues talking. “You want us to take it slower, right? I got ahead of myself when you agreed on the vacation, can’t believe I made such a big deal out of it.”

She opens her mouth to speak but nothing comes out because he’s right. He’s just outlined everything that she feels is too much with their relationship, and he’s open to scaling back on it. If she’s honest with herself, she’s not even sure that’s a good thing at this point. But nevertheless she turns her hands over in his hold, grasping his hands in return and giving back the gentle squeeze. He raises his eyes.

“Let’s just take it slow, Eren. Together.”

Later, as she’s exiting Eren’s apartment building onto the street, she heaves a sigh and wonders if she said the right thing. At the very least she can be assured that he won’t be jumping the gun without her knowledge again, and it makes the imminent return of his father next year less of a deadline. She has no doubt that he would still want to do something by then, but the likelihood of it being a proposal has just dropped considerably. Still, she’s aware that her words may have given him hope she shouldn’t, but she cuts herself that slack due to her own uncertainty. Because that admission he just made is very likely not one he realized on his own. While it’s possible he could have figured out based on her reaction, it just seems more feasible that someone clued him in. And there’s only one person besides Eren himself who knew she was upset.

The night’s chill gets to her as she stands there and she pulls her jacket tighter around herself. She begins to walk down the sidewalk towards the subway station, but she gets as far as twenty meters before a familiar parked car catches her attention. A quick glance at the registration confirms her guess. It’s Mikasa’s car. She slows her pace, because it’s been almost half an hour since Mikasa left, so Mikasa shouldn’t still be around. Curiously, she peers into the vehicle as she passes along its side. Mikasa is in the driver’s seat and when she notices Annie, she rolls down the window.

“It’s a cold night,” Mikasa prefaces, and Annie nods dumbly. “Want a lift?”

She sees no reason to say no. She doesn’t ask what Mikasa is still doing there, half an hour later. She doesn’t ask if Mikasa is waiting specifically to offer her a lift home. It’s irrelevant, and not in the it should be irrelevant sort of way but in the truly irrelevant sort of way. Whatever Mikasa’s reasons, she’s there, and Annie can now enjoy the warmth of Mikasa’s car, the comfort of its impeccably clean interior, and the charm of its driver. When they parted at the airport, there was a sense of distance, like they’re fighting. But even though this is the first she’s seen Mikasa since, that feeling is gone. No awkward tension, no distance. She stares openly at Mikasa from the passenger seat, and at the red lights, Mikasa returns it.

“You spoke to him,” she states.

“I did,” Mikasa confirms.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Mikasa replies, shrugging it off. “I know he can be intense. I tried to tell him not to keep it from you, but he wouldn’t listen to me.”

She nods. “Thanks Mikasa.”

The lights turning cut off any response Mikasa might have, and they don’t talk anymore. It doesn’t take long before Mikasa arrives at her place, pulling up her car to the side. Then Mikasa unlocks the doors, but Annie doesn’t reach for the handle. She turns in her seat to face Mikasa.

“Want to come in for a while? Warm up before you go?”

As if it isn’t sufficiently warm in the car. Mikasa seems to think the same as she raises an eyebrow at her. “Warm up? With a hot drink, or with a warm body?”

Annie shrugs. “You could have both.”

Mikasa breaks out a smirk, her eyes seemingly laughing, but she doesn’t actually say anything.

“You could let me reciprocate,” Annie presses on, extending her left hand over to Mikasa. “I play the guitar you know. I have callouses. Imagine what I could do for you.”

Now Mikasa does laugh, but what surprises her most is Mikasa closing the small distance across the seat and grasping onto her hand, her thumb brushing against the callouses on her fingers. Shivers run up her arm at the contact, and then down her spine when Mikasa looks at her.

“It must feel really good when you touch yourself too.”

The lilt in Mikasa’s voice tells her that Mikasa isn’t being coy. Mikasa knows exactly what she’s saying, and how it’s coming off. It makes her breath short and her mouth dry, but despite that she pulls on her best knowing look. “You have no idea.”

Mikasa hums, her thumb still brushing against her fingertips. “Do you think of me?”

“Yes.”

“Am I giving or receiving?”

All sorts of mental images assaults her at the question. “Giving, mostly,” she croaks out. “I...don't have much reference of you receiving. Because you won’t let me. It’s harder to imagine.”

Mikasa smirks widely then, her thumb abruptly stopping its motion. “I’ll give you a reference.”

She hasn’t even made sense of Mikasa’s words before Mikasa grabs her upper arm, pulling her close as she herself leans in, and Annie’s heart rate spikes. “What—”

Mikasa’s breath caresses her ear, spreading violent goosebumps over her neck and shoulders, and then Mikasa moans. The sound is low and throaty, tapering off into a slight whimper that sends heat blazing into her face and into the pit of her stomach. But what really gets her trembling, grasping onto Mikasa’s arms for steadiness as her fingers and toes tingle, is when Mikasa follows up with a husky drawl of her name.

“Annie...”

All her mental images switches around, with Mikasa now on the receiving end moaning out Annie’s name in the throes of pleasure. Annie finds herself moaning as well as she bites her lip and grips Mikasa’s arms hard, squeezing her thighs together tightly for all the throbbing that is happening between them. Mikasa chuckles softly into her ear, pressing closer to give her earlobe a gentle nip before pulling away. The hint of teeth stutters her breath further as she glances up at Mikasa, hating the smug smirk on her face, and then she drops her gaze with a sharp inhale.

“You’re a massive tease.”

Mikasa only reaches up to dislodge the hands on her arms, her smirk never leaving as she then proceeds to turn off the ignition and opens the door. “Well, I think I’ll take you up on your offer for a hot drink.”

She is so turned on it’s a wonder she manages to scramble out of the car following Mikasa without stumbling on anything. Her knees are weak, and she slams the door shut with more force than necessary, but Mikasa only raises an eyebrow with amusement.

“No need to get violent with the car.”

She glares at the taller girl, walking over to her and seizing the lapel of her coat to drag her towards the apartment building. “There’s no way I’m letting you leave after just a hot a drink.”

Mikasa laughs, trudging along unresistingly. “Make it a really good hot drink, then maybe I’ll stay.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mikasa being a goth is a nod to Isayama's High School AU fake previews. I limited it to Mikasa merely owning a lot of black colored things, due to my own limited understanding of the goth subculture.


	10. this is all I think of

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very talk heavy chapter with nothing much actually happening, yet a lot of little things happening at the same time.
> 
> \--
> 
> Chapter title taken from the song Video Game by Lana Del Rey. I listen to the cover by Silver Swans.

Mikasa does stay, even though the hot drink is nothing but water, and when Annie wakes the next morning she is momentarily puzzled to find herself on the couch instead of her bed. But upon seeing the cold compress on the table, she instantly remembers how she came to be here. After sending Mikasa off and locking the door, she had sat on the couch bundled up in her quilt in order to ice another mark that Mikasa left on her neck. Somehow, she must have fallen asleep with how tired and sated she was as she doesn’t remember even using the compress. Everything after sitting down on the couch is a blank. The persistent blaring of her alarm from her bedroom reminds her of why she’s up however, and with a yawn, she gets up to turn it off.

It is with a sense of trepidation that she examines the mark on her neck in her bathroom mirror. While the previous one could be called hickey, this one is more bite, considering that it is not so much a red spot but rather a line of teeth imprints, but that is not surprising given the context in which Mikasa chose to give it. Asking about the pictures, specifically about why all the foods had a bite taken off of them, gets her no verbal answers. Mikasa only bends down to place her mouth over her neck, and bites. It’s a piercing bite that has her hissing in pain, but in exchange Mikasa doesn’t stop her when she slides her hands under Mikasa’s shirt to feel the hard muscles of her back, to trace her fingers along the band of her bra, to drag her nails down along her spine.

That last one has Mikasa releasing her neck to groan softly and in that instance it erases any trace of her pain, replacing it with throbbing desire to touch Mikasa proper. To see her experiencing pleasure, to hear the sounds she would make, to smell the scent of her arousal, to taste it on her tongue as she drives Mikasa higher, and finally, to feel Mikasa quake in orgasm as she holds her close. How she wishes she could touch Mikasa. How she wishes Mikasa would let her. That wish is exacerbated by Mikasa escaping to the bathroom afterwards to get herself off. Mikasa has admitted as much to doing so sometimes, but it’s the first time Mikasa does it _in her presence._ It takes all of her to stay where she is on the bed, to not give in to the magnetic pull of Mikasa’s heavy breaths, and to replace Mikasa’s fingers with her own, or with her tongue.

She sighs, stroking along the bite mark one last time before she turns to the shower and lets the cold water run. Arousal is not exactly what she needs first thing in the morning. But as she pulls off her shirt and glances at the mirror again to see the red line of teeth standing out against the pale of her skin, she doesn’t quite regret falling asleep and forgetting to ice it. No, she doesn’t regret it at all.

Hiding it is easy with winter approaching. No one questions the wearing of high collared tops, a scarf, or pulling up her hoodie to completely conceal her neck. Even at the gym while teaching, she chooses an athletic tee that with a high neckline that covers the mark, and she places a skin coloured bandage over it as well. It is a needless precaution for in the end no one even sees it besides Mikasa herself, and although it takes longer to go off than the first because it is a bite mark and not a hickey, it does eventually clear up completely. Just a day after she decides she no longer needs to be careful about it, Armin calls her out for lunch. It has been a while, so she accepts readily.

But she gets an unexpected surprise when she arrives at their usual cafe because he is not alone. Seated on the chair beside him is Mikasa who seems equally surprised to see her, and she has to remind herself to school her expression into neutrality or distaste before Armin notices.

“Annie!” Armin greets, waving her over. “Sorry I didn’t mention, but will it be okay if Mikasa joins us today?”

“If not I’ll just leave,” Mikasa adds with much vitriol in her voice.

It has Armin flailing to convince Mikasa to stay and it is somehow funny to watch. So she pulls out a chair and sits. It’s never not okay to have Mikasa around. “No, stay. Armin called you here after all.”

Mikasa catches her eyes, smirking at her when Armin is looking her way trying to keep the peace, and while Armin goes on about the wonders about just having a nice, friendly meal together, Annie leans back on her seat and lightly kicks Mikasa’s foot under the table in response. Mikasa doesn’t acknowledge it, but her smirk does grow wider and that’s all she needs to turn her attention to the still talking Armin. She doesn’t know why Armin has arranged this, but it’s nice. To be able to spend time with Mikasa outside of either of their houses or Mikasa’s car, it’s not something she thought she wanted until now.

It’s not something that is within the bounds of their relationship, but neither is texting, which they do now. Neither is having sex in her place and not just Mikasa’s, which they do now. Neither is flirting, which they definitely do now. It seems that the boundary now is simply ‘however much is comfortable’ for them both. So she tries not to stare at Mikasa too much, because Armin is observant, as she silently thanks Armin for whatever it is he’s doing.

Two days later, she gets another unexpected opportunity to test the comfort of their boundaries. A student, lazy with his guard with an overeager sparring partner, gets a foot in the face and is knocked out cold. After taking him to the hospital and making sure he doesn’t have a concussion, she accompanies him home anyway for good measure, leaving her class in the hands of the senior students. However, as she’s making her way back upon dropping off her student safely in his house, she suddenly realizes that by chance, she’s in Mikasa’s neighborhood.

She looks at the time on her phone. It’s a Wednesday afternoon, she has a personal session with Eren later, but for now she has time. She reasons with herself that there is no harm taking a look since she’s here already. That Mikasa is probably not even at home. The jet black car she finds sitting squarely on Mikasa’s porch however leaves her more than a little antsy. She considers texting Mikasa then, because Mikasa turns away anyone who comes unannounced, and her blanket invitation is for Thursday nights after seven. But just as she opens the chat she scraps the thought. If Mikasa turns her away, that’s that. It wouldn’t be boundary testing if she announced her presence.

So she steels herself as she walks up to the door and rings the doorbell. And that’s how she ends up in Mikasa’s house on a Wednesday afternoon eating cookies with an apron wearing Mikasa because when Mikasa opened the door, she started rambling about how she happened to be in the neighborhood, that it’s really, really a coincidence and not an excuse she made up for turning up unannounced, although she absolutely could leave if Mikasa would rather she did, because she just came over out of curiosity so she didn’t have to be let it, and that’s when Mikasa simply grabs the collar of her hoodie and pulls her in, saying;

“Stop rambling. You’re just in time. I’m making cookies.”

Which explains the sweet, nutty scent she picks up when the door opens. And the apron Mikasa’s wearing. And now there’s a tray of freshly baked bite sized cookies cooling down on the rack on the counter before her as Mikasa places the second batch into the oven. Technically, since she’s been allowed in, she’s supposed to help Mikasa pack the cookies into two separate tins so that they can be given to Eren and Armin later, but it’s much more interesting to watch Mikasa in her apron and oven mitts.

“I didn’t think you’d be home,” she says conversationally.

Mikasa glances at her as she closes the oven door. “Why not?”

“It’s the middle of the day. I thought you’d be at work or something,” she explains.

An amused smile flashes across Mikasa’s face as she tugs off her mitts to adjust the oven timer. “Didn’t you know? I work from home. Where do you think I find the time to make all the things I do?”

“Oh? I just thought since you’re exceedingly good at everything, that includes time management.”

Mikasa snorts, joining her at the counter as she picks a cookie up. “Try them.”

She does, picking up the one closest to her and popping it into her mouth whole. The flavor is sweet and nutty, like the scent, with a crunch of almonds and an aftertaste of roasted vanilla. “It’s really delicious. You’re very good at this.”

“Thanks,” Mikasa replies with a smile, taking up a tin to begin filling it with cookies as Annie summarily begins doing the same with the other tin. “You’re going to see Eren later, right?”

Annie looks up. “Yeah, for training.”

“You think I could have you deliver this to him? Or would that be too strange?”

“I don’t think I’m supposed to know where you live. I don’t think you’re supposed to entrust Eren’s cookies to me either.”

Mikasa hums thoughtfully. “True. I suppose I’ll have to go over later. Or are you going to be there? Because I wouldn’t want to...interrupt anything.”

She grimaces along with Mikasa because that scenario would indeed be awkward. More for her and Mikasa than for Eren. “I’ll text you if I’m there.”

“No, it’s fine. I think I’ll just give it to Armin and have him pass it along. He lives closer too, so it’s easier.”

“And what are you going to tell him about why you can’t do it yourself?”

“That you’re possibly there.”

Which is absolutely the truth, although likely not in the way Armin thinks. Which makes it the best form of untruth. “Speaking of Armin,” she says while popping another cookie into her mouth, “what was that lunch about?”

“Ah, that,” Mikasa chuckles. “Eren put him up to it actually.”

“Eren?”

“Apparently, because of that incident of me sending you pictures of bitten once foods that he gave me such a scolding over—” Mikasa exaggeratedly rolls her eyes, and Annie feels her neck tingle where Mikasa bit her, because she still doesn’t know what that was about. Not that she didn’t enjoy Mikasa’s ‘answer’, or how Mikasa gave it. “—he thinks that we’re still not getting along as well as he’d like, which he finds appalling considering how many Sunday dinners we’ve had together. So, now Eren’s thinking that maybe we need to bond without him around, and he asked Armin to help him out.”

“Huh,” Annie replies. Then she looks at Mikasa, whose tin is almost full while her own is barely half. And they’re almost out of cookies from the first batch. Maybe she shouldn’t be eating so many. She clears her throat. “He has the right idea though.”

“Perhaps,” Mikasa says, placing a final cookie in her tin before sealing it close. “But I’m quite certain the sort of bonding we do is not what he has in mind when he thinks of us bonding.”

Indeed it wouldn’t be. She quickly places the rest of the cookies on the tray into her tin and closes it too for freshness as she looks at Mikasa going over to the oven to check the progress of the second batch. She bites the inside of her cheek, slightly astonished that this topic is apparently okay. Or rather, talking openly about the fact that they’re carrying on behind Eren’s back is okay. Mikasa used to be so pissed about even the idea of it, but that anger seems to have turned into resignation. She’s even getting the sense that Mikasa finds some sort of humor in this situation, which is such an unfathomable reaction. Nowadays, their roles seem to have switched, and she’s the one more concerned about this.

No doubt Mikasa is still thinking the best for her relationship with Eren, evidenced by her speaking to Eren about his intensity and smoothing out that particular bump, but she wonders if Mikasa would be as adamant as she was before about her staying with Eren. If she brings up now a desire to break up, will Mikasa react the same? More importantly, _does_ she want to break up with Eren? When she asked him to take things slow, she expected him to dial back his intensity in regards to pushing the relationship forward, to committing to something more. But instead, he seems to have dialed back on everything. He doesn’t text as often, he doesn’t call as often, he stays away from topics of the future, he waits for her to suggest going out, he even waits for her to initiate intimacy. A few months earlier she might have liked this change. Now though, it feels too little too late.

But if she does break up with Eren, then what? Does she get together with Mikasa after? How would that even look like to Eren? To break up with him and then get together with his sister. He’d be devastated. And surely he’d realize that this means she and Mikasa has had something going on all along. That would strain their relationship like nothing else. She cannot do that to either of them. Mikasa herself would never hurt Eren like that. So if she breaks up with Eren, it means that this thing with Mikasa has to stop too, unless they continue in secret. But she cannot imagine that Mikasa would agree to that. Mikasa is doing this for Eren’s sake first and foremost, and beyond that, this is just physical. Does Mikasa even like her? On that same vein, does _she?_ Does she want to have something more with Mikasa?

She watches as Mikasa backs away from the oven, muttering something to herself in what sounds to be Japanese, but she doesn’t understand it. Just like she doesn’t understand what she desires from Mikasa. It started physical, she tells herself all the time that it’s physical, but if so, then what is she doing here now, in Mikasa’s kitchen, eating cookies? It’s obvious they’re not going to have sex, not while Mikasa is waiting for the cookies to be done, and not while she’s going to see Eren later. It’d be suspicious to have a shower and it’d be suspicious not to have a shower. No, she didn’t come here for sex. She came here just to spend time with Mikasa. Why, what it means, she doesn’t want to think about right now. With a heavy sigh, she shakes the thoughts from her mind.

It’s not a sound Mikasa misses as Mikasa glances at her questioningly. Annie quickly shifts the attention elsewhere. “Was that Japanese you spoke?”

“Ah, yes. I do that sometimes,” Mikasa replies, taking the empty first batch tray from the counter and placing it into the sink.

Annie nods. “So I hear that you’re a master at languages. What was it, four PhD’s?”

“Three,” Mikasa says, speaking a little louder over the sound of washing. “Japanese, English, and German. Although I am fluent in four other languages, and good enough to talk to a native in another six.”

“Wow. Wow,” Annie awes because really, thirteen languages? That’s not just exceedingly good, that’s excessively good. “That must come really handy when you want to badmouth someone.”

Mikasa laughs, her shoulders shaking from the mirth. “Maybe the fluent seven. I don’t think I know enough bad words with the other six.”

“Huh,” she says, staring at Mikasa’s back as Mikasa washes the tray, and an idea pops up. “Is Russian one of those seven?”

Mikasa promptly turns around then, a smirk plastered on her lips as she leans back on the sink and folds her arms. “Yes.”

“Right. Of course it is. Never mind then.” She can only blame herself that she made it so obvious. But Mikasa immediately replies with another Japanese word that she doesn’t understand at all. She scowls, because Mikasa is clearly directing that word to her. “What?”

She is answered only with a widened smirk. “What you wanted to say about me in Russian.”

The realization that Mikasa has just bad mouthed her in Japanese has her blinking rapidly in shock. That Mikasa, always so civil and proper, has just bad mouthed her in another language. Well, if that’s how Mikasa wants to play, she’ll rise up to the challenge. “You can read my mind now? Want to bet you got it wrong?”

The smirk disappears right away. “Annie, we’re not making bets over this.”

“Scared to lose? Just admit you’re wrong, then no bets,” she says, smirking herself. Mikasa stares at her, unimpressed, and she stares back challengingly. “Come on, just for fun and games.”

Mikasa sighs. “All right. What do you want?”

She considers it, bringing her hand to her chin. There are many things she wants from Mikasa. She wants to reciprocate in bed, she wants to be able to kiss her, she wants to cuddle sometimes after sex, she wants to...no, she’s not going to give that thought more strength. But the distinction is clear enough. Those wants are serious wants, boundary defining wants, and not ones Mikasa would give her for a bit of fun and games. She needs to aim smaller. Her gaze drops to the counter-top, seeing little crumbs of cookie littered about, and then her smirk grows.

“If you’re wrong, you fuck me against this counter right now.”

The instantaneous look of revulsion on Mikasa’s face makes the entire thing worth it. She bursts out in laughter as Mikasa continues to scowl, finding absolutely no humor in this. “Annie, I make food on this counter.”

“And?” she shoots back in between her chortles. “I want you to fuck me _against_ the counter, not _on_ it.”

“That’s not better!” Mikasa huffs with a shake of her head. “What if I don’t get it wrong?”

Annie takes a steadying breath, leaning forward as she rests an elbow on the counter, her chin on her palm, and places her other hand flat on the surface almost suggestively. “Then you _don’t_ have to fuck me against the counter.”

Mikasa lifts a hand to cover her face before letting out a defeated chuckle. “Talk about lose-lose. Very well. Fun and games, right? Bitch. That’s what you were going to say.”

“Close,” Annie replies, clicking her tongue as she lets her eyes roam up and down Mikasa’s form pointedly. Then she grins. “Sexy bitch.”

She swears she sees some color rise up to Mikasa’s cheeks. But Mikasa turns her head, muttering something in another unidentifiable language, and when she turns back it’s gone. “My mother always told me to be humble, I see this was a situation I should have gone without.”

“Wait, so you were actually considering sexy bitch?”

“And various others, yes.”

Annie laughs again, Mikasa’s matter-of-fact manner never failing to impress yet ridiculously amuse her at the same time. It’s not even prideful, but rather a complete awareness of what she is, good or bad, and how she is perceived. So whatever other adjectives Mikasa thought of, it’s probably right too. Because of that, Annie decides to forgo the bet. It’s fun and games after all, and Mikasa has entertained her enough. She doesn’t actually want Mikasa to fuck her against the counter. The point is to poke at Mikasa, and she has achieved that.

But Mikasa beats her to it. “Okay, you win. I’ll fuck you against the counter. But not right now.”

She starts to protest, opening her mouth and lifting her hand—then the over timer goes off with a ding. And the conversation is brushed aside in favour of attending to the cookies. A fresh wave of that sweet, nutty scent washes over her as Mikasa removes the tray from the oven and onto the counter. Mikasa promptly goes to work, taking off her mitts, turning off the oven, scooping up the cookies from the tray onto the cooling rack, and as Annie watches this she closes her mouth and drops her hand. It seems as though Mikasa considers that topic done. And well, if Mikasa is fine with it, then there is no need for her to say otherwise. She doesn’t need to be fucked against the counter, true. But she certainly doesn’t mind it either. So instead, she reaches out to the tray and helps Mikasa transfer the cookies.

Mikasa thanks her, pointedly, in Russian. Annie rolls her eyes.

“Why languages?” she asks.

“Hmm?” Mikasa glances at her.

“You’re apparently good at everything, so why study languages? Why translating?”

“Well, I grew up speaking three languages. German from my father, Japanese from my mother, and English from school. That was just natural to me then. The actual interest in languages didn’t come until later, when Eren’s family took me in. Uncle Grisha was always well traveled, and he taught me French when he realized I could speak three languages. After that, I just picked up the rest along the way. Translating is simply an outlet for me to make use of them all, I guess.”

Annie nods. “I see. That’s...really great.” Then she sucks in her lower lip as she continues transferring the cookies, looking at Mikasa from the corner of her eyes. Mikasa has never shied away from the fact that she’s adopted, but the circumstance that led to that has so far gone unmentioned. She’s curious about it, but she wonders if it would be weird for her to ask. If she even has the right to ask, considering their neither this nor that relationship. Are they friends now? More than that? Less than that? Or is it still that undefined somewhere in between? She picks up the last cookie from the tray and pops it into her mouth to Mikasa’s raised eyebrow, but no reprimand comes. So she swallows the cookie and takes the plunge. “Do you have family in Japan? Since, you know, you go there every year.”

To her surprise, Mikasa answers almost immediately. “No.” But as Mikasa carries the now empty second batch tray over to the sink, she pauses, pursing her lips. “Well, that’s not exactly right. My mother’s family is there, but they are not my family.”

“Not your family?” She senses complicated family dynamics ahead, and maybe she doesn’t need to be privy to this. But before she can even say that she doesn’t need to know the details, Mikasa has already turned around and started explaining exactly that.

“My mother’s family is traditional, to put it simply. They can trace their line back to the time of the Shogunate and they take pride in that, and the purity of the bloodline. So the fact that my mother fell in love with my father, a foreigner, and wanted to marry him, was not at all well received. They instead set up an arranged marriage for her. She refused, and actually brought my father over to meet the family on the day she was supposed to meet her arranged match. I was told that her grandfather promptly disowned her right there for humiliating the family,” Mikasa frowns, making a sarcastic gesture at the word ‘humiliating’. “So anyway, she had no choice but to leave, married my father, and lived with him.”

Complicated family dynamics indeed. “Is that why you don’t consider them family? Because they disowned your mother?”

“I don’t consider them family because they don’t consider me family,” Mikasa corrects. “My father was an outcast with his family too, although I am not as familiar with his circumstances. But when my parents died, not one of his family showed up for the funeral. Maybe he doesn’t have any, I don’t know. Kenny and Levi are from a different branch altogether, and they only found me years later. So I had nowhere to go but my mother’s family. The one person who showed up from my mother’s family however, only did so to pay her respects on behalf of the entire family and to tell Uncle Grisha, whom I was temporarily under the care of at the time, that because my mother has been disowned, none of the family considers me one of them. So basically she came to say not to contact them about me. That’s when the Yeagers took me in properly.”

Mikasa speaks in an almost perfunctory manner and it is perplexing. Even if it had been years ago, Mikasa’s acceptance of her family’s rejection has Annie gritting her teeth. It is upsetting for her just hearing that Mikasa had been cast out simply because she was borne out of love. And to say such a thing during the funeral too. “No offense, but your mother’s family sounds like a bunch of assholes.”

Mikasa laughs heartily. “None taken. Be as offensive as you want. As you can imagine, I have no love for them. Even if they did take me in, would they treat me as family?”

At least there’s that awareness. But did Mikasa realize right then what terrible people her mother’s family were? Or was she hurt and confused about the rejection, right after she lost her parents? How old was Mikasa even when it happened? And then Annie realizes that now is the perfect chance to ask about how and when Mikasa’s parents died. After all Mikasa brought it up herself. It’s not an inappropriate follow up. Seeing how their conversation has gone, she feels almost certain that Mikasa would answer without hesitance too. But as she grabs at another cookie, she decides that there is no need for her to know. Satisfying curiosity isn’t exactly a good enough reason for something this deeply personal. If Mikasa wants to tell her, then it will come up.

It is enough for her to know that her initial impression on Grisha, that he is a nice person, that she’s glad to have met him, rings true. Now she even regrets spending much of that meeting blanking out and not paying attention. Eren may be right in his criticism that Grisha is away often, but he genuinely seems to care about his children’s well-being. He provided Mikasa the family and the support she needed. Surely that’s better than blood relations that wouldn’t acknowledge her. No wonder Mikasa is so devoted to the Yeagers. Then the realization clicks in her head as she pauses in her chewing of the cookie. She’s always thought that Mikasa seems overly concerned about Eren’s happiness, or not wanting him to get hurt. This must be why. The Yeagers are the family that her family aren’t. And family don’t hurt each other like that.

Her mouth suddenly feels a little dry, whether from the cookies or something else, and in an amazing display of attentiveness that no longer surprises her, Mikasa hands over a glass of water. She takes it graciously. What does surprise her however, is Mikasa taking a seat adjacent to her and continuing to talk.

“My mother always spoke fondly of Japan, even though she never went back after marrying my father. I think she wanted me to feel some connection to it too. She taught me Japanese, showed me pictures, told me was it was like. My father had always felt bad about what happened with my mother’s family, and we had planned to go visit someday, when I’m older,” Mikasa says, eyes looking straight ahead while smiling wistfully. “That never happened.”

“I’m sorry. This must be hard to talk about. You don’t have to.”

“No, it’s fine,” Mikasa shakes her head. “I don’t mind. Unless you’d rather I didn’t?”

“No! No way,” she quickly denies. It’s one thing to feel like she hasn’t done anything to deserve this level of personal sharing, but it’s another thing altogether to make Mikasa feel like the sharing is unwelcome. “Tell me anything you want. I’ll listen.”

Mikasa smiles again, this one markedly less sombre. “I kept up the Japanese even when I didn’t have anyone to speak to because it made me feel connected to my mother. And when I finally visited Japan with Eren and Uncle Grisha, I felt an instant connection there too. It felt like a second home. So since then I’ve been going every year. It’s like a pilgrimage. And that’s why.”

Annie nods, acknowledging all that Mikasa has said, even though it is far more than she expected Mikasa to divulge. She doesn’t even know what to do with all the information, but that Mikasa trusts her, feels safe enough with her to tell as much as she did, says so much about what Mikasa thinks of her. Well, she feels the same. She has always felt the same. “I remember that you told me once how it’s a matter of course for you to protect those you love. I get it now. Really get it. You really are a commendable person. I respect you.”

“Oh, thanks,” Mikasa replies, blinking in obvious bewilderment. Clearly, Mikasa didn’t believe her when she said it the first time.

She frowns. “You didn’t believe me.”

Mikasa looks away sheepishly. “No, I didn’t.”

“So what, you thought I was just bluffing?”

“You were trying to butter me up to agree to fight you, so you’ll forgive me if I didn’t believe in the sincerity of your intentions.”

“That’s fair,” she concedes. She can see how it might come off that way to Mikasa. They openly didn’t like each other back then after all. “I meant it though.”

Mikasa nods, smiling small. “I know now. Thanks. I appreciate the thought.” Then she reaches over to take the half filled cookie tin that Annie was working on to continue filling it up with the now cooled second batch. “What about you?

She stops herself from taking another cookie. “What about me?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talking about your family before.”

“Oh.” She tenses. “That.” What exactly did she think it would be? Mikasa has shared so much, it only makes sense for the topic to now turn to her. She doesn’t like talking about her family, but she asked first, got more than she asked, so it wouldn’t be fair to give nothing in return. She worries her lower lip, shifting uncomfortably in her seat as she contemplates what to say.

Evidently however, her anxiety is crystal clear for Mikasa quickly raises a hand. “Ah, don’t answer if you don’t want to. You need not feel obligated to share simply because I did. It’s fine if it’s off-limits.”

Part of her is instantly relieved by the out and she wants nothing more than to take it, but the other part of her instantly feels bad for wanting that, because doesn’t this mean she doesn’t trust Mikasa? Mikasa giving her an out even tells her that Mikasa thinks so too. And somehow the prospect of that, of allowing Mikasa to continue thinking that she doesn’t trust her, makes her feel worse that the prospect of talking about herself. Because she does trust Mikasa. Or maybe it’s more that she feels she should trust Mikasa. If Mikasa asked her now to put on a blindfold and let herself be tied down to the bed, she’d say yes in a heartbeat. And if she could trust Mikasa with that, why is this any different?

She raises her head, meeting Mikasa’s gaze. “I don’t usually like talking about my family.”

“Okay,” Mikasa replies. But she doesn’t repeat her reassurances that Annie need not speak. Mikasa just waits. And fills the tin with cookies.

The action puzzles her at first, but it soon becomes apparent that this is far better than Mikasa sitting there staring at her, expecting her to talk. Which was exactly how her formality talk with Eren had gone, all that time ago. It was painfully awkward, almost like an interview on each other’s family backgrounds. But this here takes the pressure and attention off of her, and if she chooses not to speak, Mikasa would not be left waiting. The cookie tin is probably the timer. If she says nothing by the time it’s filled, Mikasa will probably change the subject.

She picks up a cookie and holds it up above the opening of the tin. “I don’t have a mother.” Mikasa pauses to let her put the cookie inside, givng her an encouraging look at the same time, and then they begin taking turns filling the tin. “I don’t know if she’s dead or just not around but I don’t have any memories of her. There are no pictures of her in the house either. And my father never ever speaks of my mother, even when I asked. So I guess I just don’t have one.”

“Your father raised you alone then?”

“Yeah. It was just me and him,” she nods. “He’s not a bad father. He provided for us. He taught me how to fight. We lived an okay life. It’s just...that’s pretty much all he did. Teach me how to fight. Sometimes, when I think back on him, it feels like he wasn’t so much a father as he was an instructor. He was strict too. We trained all day, after school when that started, and when we weren’t training, we talk about training. That’s all our relationship was.”

“Do you know why he trained you so hard?”

She shrugs. “Said something about the world being dangerous. I have to be able to protect myself. I think he’s just projecting his desire to fight onto me. Want me to go where he couldn’t. He was a top fighter once, probably could have been world champion, but a leg injury cut short his career. So maybe he wanted me to take his mantle.”

Mikasa suddenly halts Annie’s hand mid-air, taking the cookie she’s holding and placing it aside. Annie looks on quizzically, but Mikasa then points to a less burnt cookie and Annie gets the message. “Did you take on his mantle?” Mikasa continues.

“Probably not in the way he wants,” she replies smoothly, reaching for the lighter colored cookies, surprising herself with how easy it is to actually talk about this. She thought she’d be more hesitant to divulge, but all of it is just flowing out now like an open tap. “He sent me off to boarding school here at thirteen, and I was actually glad to be away. But I had spent all my life up to then just training, I knew nothing else. I had no other hobbies or anything else I enjoyed doing. It had become a habit for me. So even though he wasn’t there to tell me to train, I kept it up. Joined the martial arts clubs. He drilled fighting into me. That’s his success.”

“What’s his failure?”

She glances up at Mikasa, impressed that Mikasa caught the implication. “Wanting me to go pro, because that’s exactly what I didn’t want. He never actually said that’s what he wanted, but I figured. After a few years at boarding school, I finally picked up some other interests. I got into music, learned to play the guitar. I picked up reading too, and in general I just learned to relax a little. Never used to know what to do with free time because I never had those back home. When I brought all of these back with me during the holidays, he wasn’t pleased. He never stopped me from doing other things, but he just kept chiding me for them, telling me not to waste my time, that it could be better spent training, that I was getting soft, things like that. I liked training, but I began resenting training _with_ him. I began resenting being with him in general. So after I graduated from school, I stayed here. Went to college here. Got a job here. And here I am.”

“And he’s still there? In your hometown?”

“Yeah,” she answers. “I asked him to move out and stay with me once, because his bad leg aches when it’s cold and Russian winters are so unforgiving. But he refused. I’m...actually glad he did. And I haven’t visited in a while too.” Then she realizes that the tin is full, with space for only one more cookie. There’s still a bunch on the cooling rack but Mikasa seems to be waiting for her to place the last one. So she does. “We write each other sometimes. And that’s pretty much it for my family.”

Mikasa proceeds to seal close the now full tin as she smiles gently. “Thank you.”

She’s not sure if the gratitude is for helping fill the tin, or for the sharing. Maybe both. So she nods, but Mikasa’s gentle smile and warm gaze has her dropping her head in a strange delayed fluster. Unexpectedly, that’s when a cookie pushes against her lips and she startles, lifting her eyes again. Drawing back slightly, she sees Mikasa holding up the very cookie that she has singled out earlier. She frowns. “Isn’t this the burnt one?”

Mikasa smiles wider, shaking her head. “No. This one is just right.”

She feels her fluster growing, but she opens her mouth to accept it. By the time she gets back to the gym a couple of hours later, Eren is already there, she has a stomach full of cookies and she hopes that the sweet and nutty scent hasn’t stuck onto her clothes.

That encounter changes that particular boundary, adding to the other things that they previously don’t do, but they do now. They text, they flirt, they sometimes have lunches together with Armin, they go to each other’s place for sex, and now they also go to each other’s place outside of the allocated days, and they _don’t_ have sex. There are always ways to justify texting, or flirting, keeping up their public cover, having more locations to have sex, but if they don’t actually have sex, then what is the point? It’s feeling like a relationship, especially with the added layer of personal sharing. It’s scary. But yet when Mikasa sends her that first text that started it all;

_Are you at home?_

_Yeah._

_Can I come over?_

She doesn’t even hesitate to answer yes. Perhaps deep down she knows what she wants. But admitting it outright does nothing but force her to face the fact that she’s in a messy, unpleasant situation where no one will come out unscathed. A situation she created. A situation in which her ideal outcome, even braving the hurt, she’s probably not going to get. Because she doesn’t know at all what is going on in Mikasa’s head, what Mikasa makes of this whole thing. But one thing she can be sure of is that however like a relationship their relationship gets, Mikasa would never choose her over Eren. So long as that is true, it is better to simply pretend not to know.

It’s a Saturday afternoon of the last week of December when her doorbell rings. She’s on her couch with her guitar, strumming along some Christmas tunes in preparation for Eren’s Christmas party tomorrow. Apparently, it’s a big thing involving pretty much everyone in Eren’s social circle. They weren’t together yet last year so she wasn’t invited then. This year, no doubt she’d be introduced as the girlfriend. She doesn’t exactly want that, but she could find no good reason to refuse going, not when Eren invited Reiner and Bertholdt separately, and they had already said yes so she can’t say she has something on with them. They’re the reason she’s strumming her guitar, because as thanks for the invitation, they want to sing some songs to spread the cheer. She’s just the background music.

Getting up from her couch and placing her guitar down gingerly, she heads for the door. She’s not expecting anyone, so that narrows down the list of possible visitors to two. Eren, or Reiner and Bertholdt. Maybe the latter. Maybe they want to practice singing. She sighs and opens the door.

It’s Mikasa. Who never drops by without asking her first. So she blinks. “Mikasa?”

“You’re looking rather gloomy. Is now a bad time?”

She lets Mikasa in, of course. Or perhaps, she insists Mikasa comes in is the more accurate interpretation of events. Because it appears that Mikasa is only here to give her something, therefore not needing to actually enter her house. But she’s never not pleased to have Mikasa around, so in she comes.

“Here,” Mikasa says once she’s inside, handing over a tin that looks a lot like the cookie tins Mikasa used before to pack baked goods for Eren and Armin. “Gingerbread cookies.”

Apparently it is one of those tins. She takes it graciously. “Thanks.” And then she realizes that Eren will definitely recognize the tin. “I’ll have to hide this.”

Mikasa snorts. “Don’t do that. Display it openly. It’s a Christmas gift.”

She frowns. “But why would you give me anything?”

“Because it’s the season of giving. And let’s just say that Armin’s get together lunches worked wonders. It’ll probably make Eren happier too.”

Armin has been rather insistent about those lunches. Although the fact that he has to basically carry on two different conversations with each of them probably isn’t part of the plan. In the most recent lunch, he even gives up on talking altogether and somehow manages to slot in a lunchtime movie instead. And then he ‘accidentally’ messes up purchasing the tickets, resulting in two seats on one row, and another on the row below. He promptly takes the single seat, ‘forcing’ her and Mikasa to sit together. If she didn’t feel so bad over how hard he’s trying she probably would have laughed at the situation, especially when she finds Mikasa’s expression mirroring her own. She does, however, when Armin's not looking, take the opportunity to swipe a sip of Mikasa’s drink from their shared cup holder. It earns her a glare. And a smack on her hand when she tries again. Mikasa does share her chicken popcorn though.

“Right, okay then,” she says, placing the tin openly on her dining table.

“Of course, the real reason is that I simply wanted to give you something,” Mikasa adds, crossing over to the dining table and opening the tin. “Look at this.”

Following Mikasa’s direction, she looks into the tin, seeing a gingerbread...woman on the top of the pile. The woman has exquisitely detailed features drawn in with colored icing, blue dots for eyes, yellow stripes for hair, white for the rest of her expression and her clothes, which seems to be a hoodie with a pocket in front—she pauses. Looks up. Catches Mikasa smiling.

“Is that me?”

Mikasa nods, and the affirmation sends her into a state of speechlessness. She glances down again at her gingerbread, not knowing whether to find it ridiculously hilarious, or incredibly charming. She reaches out to gently pick it up, looking it over carefully. While it’s not instantly recognizable as her, every element put together makes it unmistakable. 

“Thanks. This is...really nice.”

The smile on Mikasa’s lips grow. “Eat it.”

“You want me to eat my own gingerbread likeness?”

“What else are you going to do with it? Put it on display? It’ll go bad.”

Mikasa is right, of course, but it surprises her how the idea of putting it on display actually appeals to her. So instead she takes a picture of it on her phone. She’s not into sentimental things like that, but she’s never received anything like this before, and it feels like she’s going to regret it if she didn’t. So just a picture, for memories. And so she can put it on display. In her phone. After that, she tentatively eats her gingerbread likeness, bottom first, and it is as delicious as she expects. When she’s left with the head, the part that looks most like her, she holds it up and pushes its face against Mikasa’s lips.

“Eat me,” she teases. Mikasa rolls her eyes, but she does eat her, making a show of licking at the icing while she’s at it. Annie just jabs at her shoulder and walks off. “You’re terrible.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The exchange between Mikasa and Annie over what Annie intended to say about Mikasa in Russian is literally the reason I made Mikasa a translator with 13 languages in her belt. Just for this silly little exchange. Seriously. 
> 
> Oh, and a refresher in case anyone doesn't recall when the conversation where Mikasa says it's a matter of course to protect those she loves and Annie says she respects her took place, it's all the way back in Chapter 1, when they were talking in Mikasa's car.


	11. it's you, it's you, it's all for you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, much appreciation for all the comments and kudos so far. 
> 
> \--
> 
> Chapter title taken from the song Video Game by Lana Del Rey. I listen to the cover by Silver Swans.

She gets to the party the next day via Bertholdt’s van, the one with Reiner’s Diner painted on the outside, but it’s fair use since they are delivering food. Another contribution to the party. As the party is being held at Mikasa’s place, she does her best to pretend she doesn’t know the way as they follow along the navigation app, and then again when they arrive at the house, double checking the number before giving Bertholdt the okay to find somewhere to park. It’s a needless pretense though, for the amount of cars on the porch and around the house is a dead giveaway. It also tells her that most of the guests are already there.

It makes her dread the obligatory socializing, especially with a whole bunch of strangers. Perhaps she might call some a friend by the end of the night, just like how quickly she and Armin took to each other, but with a group this large, it’s highly doubtful. As she recalls, Eren says the count is somewhere around twenty, although a few of them might drop in only for a while. It’s still an intimidating enough figure, not helped by the fact that she can hear the din of conversation even from outside the house. She sticks close to her two tall friends as they go for the door.

Mikasa answers the door as the host. Greetings are exchanged, and then they’re in the house. Eren is by her side within seconds as Mikasa leads Reiner and Bertholdt away to show them where to put the food they brought. The noise level drops suddenly as people begin to take notice of her, of Reiner and Bertholdt walking through the living room. She takes a deep breath, and then Eren’s offered hand, and uses that to ground herself. He smiles at her and gives her hand a gentle squeeze.

“Come on, let’s get you acquainted with everyone.”

They do the rounds, but by the time she gets through everyone she only remembers the first name, Marco, and the last name, Connie. Everyone else in between is a blur. A handful of others arrive after her too. An older man who is a family friend, a group of former bosses, and another group consisting of colleagues. That entire bunch, save the family friend, don’t stay long, moving on almost as soon as they’ve had some courtesy food and drink. She doesn’t remember any of their names either. If there’s one consolation of this painful process however, it is that Eren stays by her side the entire time, although the number of times he mentions the word ‘girlfriend’ is disconcerting. When he does leave her side, Reiner and Bertholdt, who seem to be blending in just fine, take his place. And when they leave her side, Armin takes their place. So she is thankfully, never alone in this sea of strangers.

Soon enough, food and drink goes around, especially alcohol, and the atmosphere begins to mellow. And when Reiner and Bertholdt start their caroling performance and everyone else sings along, she could almost call it comfortable. She finds that she doesn't even mind when Reiner insists they wear Santa hats he found from somewhere. At least he's the only one wearing the Santa beard and giving out a stash of candies she wasn't even aware he has. They sing ten songs before wrapping it up and rejoining the crowd to mingle, but Annie decides to stay there and continue strumming some background music.

That’s when she notices, after Reiner and Bertholdt disappears, that she’s alone. Not literally alone. There’s Mina and Historia sitting close by, and she actually got along with the two quite all right when Armin brought her over to talk previously, but she’s no good at all at joining people on her own. And Eren and Armin are nowhere to be seen. She continues strumming on, trying not to let her anxiety show, before a tray of drinks appears before her face suddenly and she looks up, seeing Mikasa.

“Limeade?” Mikasa asks with a small smile. She takes the offered drink without words, a little surprised at Mikasa’s appearance, but Mikasa only bends down further and whispers under her breath. “You play really well. I loved listening to you. And that Santa hat looks cute on you.”

Mikasa withdraws before she can say anything in return, but watching Mikasa’s retreating back, she sips her limeade and feels it strangely warm her chest. The night seems to wind down from there, even though it isn’t all that late yet, but all the same she goes in search for Reiner and Bertholdt to suggest they leave. She instead finds Eren and Armin, and the reason they’ve been missing, which is apparently to prepare the highlight of the party. A brawling competition. It doesn’t make sense, even as Armin tries to explain to her that it has somehow become a tradition over the years, evolved from an innocent hat snatching game that became too competitive, because what does Christmas and fighting have to do with each other? But it clearly doesn’t matter as everyone starts to flock over to Mikasa’s training room–cleared of everything but the padded floor mats—to spectate.

She picks up the details through the clamor of everyone talking all at once. There are no set rules to the matches, except for no drawing blood, and since there is no protective gear, this means that it’s more wrestling than punches and kicks. Challengers fight to the last person standing, and the victor then gets to battle last year’s winner for the prize. What this prize is, is never mentioned. But as she sees the crowd around her roaring for the fights to start, it is enough for her to understand that this is entertaining, and that there is some worthwhile reward.

“I’ll definitely win the prize this year, Eren!” Someone has already stepped onto the floor, rolling up the sleeves of their shirt in preparation.

Eren doesn’t move from her side, only grinning at her before hollering back. “Be the last one standing first before challenging me, Jean!”

She flashes with pride at his words because that means he’s the reigning champion. And whatever else is going on, the fact remains that he is her student. At this time last year they’ve only just began classes together, but it still means that she had judged not just his passion and potential right, but also his existing skill. So she grins back at him, channeling her pride as she says, “Kick his ass.”

As it turns out, her words were not necessary for Jean gets knocked out on the fourth round after Reiner, always a good sport, decides to join as well. She feels somewhat sympathetic at the truly bitter look on Jean’s face, but in her own experience, Reiner and Eren are quite equally matched. If Jean lost to Reiner, he would lose to Eren too. When Reiner continues to mop the floor with everyone else, even Bertholdt whom she eggs on, the bout of two evenly matched fighters seems imminent. But as the last call for challengers goes around, she finds herself now on the receiving end of Bertholdt’s egging. She resists, quite certain she could easily take on both Reiner and Eren. In comparison, a Reiner and Eren fight would be far more entertaining.

Eren clearly agrees with Bertholdt however, for when he notices the egging, he quickly throws in his support. “Go on Annie. Let’s have a teacher and student fight.”

She turns it back on him. “You beat Reiner first.”

It bends the rules slightly, but Eren enthusiastically goes for it, stepping up onto the floor to join Reiner accompanied by cheers, oohs and aahs. They duke it out, and as she predicted, it is not an easy match for either of them. Reiner’s size and strength is initially advantageous, but Eren eventually gets into his groove and begins controlling the fight. She just hopes that if Eren wins, he’d be too tired to want to go against her. But no such luck. Eren does win when Reiner taps out from the guillotine submission, and then he looks at her, waving her onto the floor. High off his win, with everyone else excited over this teacher-student match, they encourage her to join too. And so, unwilling to dampen the mood she steps up to the floor. She determines to at least make it quick.

Eren attacks first, probably hoping to use surprise to his advantage, but she dodges, grabs his wrist, and twists it behind his back. As expected, he arches against the strain, and she immediately knocks her knee into the back of his, tipping him to fall face first onto the floor. From there it’s easy even though he tries to flip over and to wriggle out of her grasp. She just mounts onto his behind to keep him trapped, and applies constant pressure on his wrist. To his credit, he still tries to escape for another ten seconds. She twists a little more.

He taps out. “I give! I give!”

She is instantly met with thunderous applause and she has to avoid recoiling when the crowd surges forward to congratulate her and express their awe. Eren, even defeated, beams with pride as he kisses her, taking her hand and raising it up in victory.

“My girlfriend, everyone!”

The label hits her like a slap and this time she does recoil, trying to pull her hand from his grasp but perhaps attributing her reaction to shyness instead, he holds on tight. It only makes her want to wrench her hand away even more. But she checks herself before she does, knowing how that would appear to all the people around them, so she just looks down, nodding modestly at anyone who is talking to her. That is, until she picks up that one line amidst the noisy chatter.

“Mikasa! You should try! She’s probably well matched for you.”

Her head up snaps up, looking for the source, immediately spotting a brunette skipping over to where Mikasa is at the corner of the room. But Mikasa’s expression turns conflicted, and the reason for that becomes clear when Eren’s hold of her hand grows just a tad tighter, telling her he heard that line too. She’s known almost since the beginning that Mikasa fights. But Eren is still under the impression that she doesn’t. How should she react? Surprise? Confusion? Should she pretend to have had an inkling all along? Or should she take this chance to reveal that she does know, that she’s traded blows with Mikasa behind his back?

“No, Sasha,” Mikasa’s voice cuts through the commotion. “Annie is this year’s winner.” And then Mikasa turns to her and nods, all formal and civil. “That was impressive, Annie. The prize of this competition goes to you.”

The prize, as it turns out, is bragging rights and some food item personally made by Mikasa. Which explains why Mikasa is at her door, two days later, holding out a plastic container with a ribbon stuck on the top.

“Seriously?” she asks.

Mikasa nods solemnly. “Seriously. Do not ask me how it started.”

“Is that why you don’t participate? No sense in rewarding yourself with your own cooking?”

“Partially,” comes the reply as Mikasa thrusts the container forward. “Claim your prize.”

She does, surprised at how light it is. “What is it?”

“Mimosa salad. I’m probably being presumptuous here. I don’t even know if you like it, or if you’ve even had it before. I just did a random internet search, and it’s Russian. So I thought you might appreciate a taste from home. I can make something else if you want.”

“No, that’s not necessary,” she replies, bringing the container to the table and opening it up to see the salad, still standing with all its discernible layers. A commendable effort for something learned through the internet. “This is very thoughtful. Thanks. Do you always tailor the prize based on who wins?”

“It’s always been Eren,” Mikasa says with a shrug. “So I admit I relished making something for someone else.”

“Lucky me. I’ll have it later,” she says as she stores it in the refrigerator. When she looks back at Mikasa, she finds the other woman’s gaze fixed on the tin of gingerbread cookies she received the other day.

“Has Eren said anything about that?” Mikasa asks.

“No. He hasn’t had the chance to see it.”

“He hasn’t come over?”

Annie shakes her head. “I suspect he’s still contemplating how to explain why he hid your awesome fighter status from me. He probably didn’t intend for me to find out that way. But we have made plans for New Year’s eve. Maybe we’ll talk then.”

She recalls how that night came to a close. Right after Mikasa confirms her win, Eren parts from her to help Armin return Mikasa’s training room to its original condition. She entertains some questions about her technique from awed spectators while Bertholdt helps Reiner apply cold compresses to particularly beat up areas. When she later leaves with them, it is without having a chance to talk much with Eren.

Mikasa hums, and then she turns away from the tin to look at her. “Speaking of awesome fighter statuses, I meant what I said that night. You were really impressive to take Eren out in one move.”

She thinks on how Eren beamed when he announced her victory. “Thanks. But he might have lost on purpose. He seemed to bask in showing me off.”

“Does it bother you?”

She meets Mikasa’s gaze. “Which one?”

That he possibly lost on purpose? Because yes, that’s insulting. Or because he showed her off? Because yes, that’s also insulting. Then she frowns, realizing that there’s just so many things that she didn’t like about how that night went. Because he’s introducing her to his friends as his girlfriend, when she’s already questioning whether she wants to remain that. Because he’s proclaiming it repeatedly, as if every repetition would make it more true. Because he’s going back against his agreement to take things slow. Yes he’s not talking about commitment, or marriage, or forever, but he’s spreading seeds everywhere. Tacking on ‘my girlfriend’ when ‘my teacher’ or just ‘Annie’ would have sufficed. And she just wants it all to stop. She just needs everything to remain as they are.

“Annie.” Mikasa’s gaze is soft and gently comforting. “He had a little too much to drink. It slowed his reaction time, and he’s more uninhibited than usual.”

“You don’t have to defend him Mikasa. We can work that out ourselves.”

“Right. Sorry.”

She sighs and crosses her arms over her chest, hating the turn the conversation has taken. It sounds like she’s annoyed at Mikasa for commenting on her relationship with Eren, for defending her brother. But that’s not it. Of course Mikasa would defend Eren, and maybe she’s even right. It is simply that by doing that Mikasa is establishing, reminding them both, that she’s the outsider. Which she is. But deep down, swirling in the pool of thoughts that Annie cannot voice, she feels like the real outsider is the one who isn’t here now. And it feels like Mikasa is aware of that too, and she’s defending against that too. Because of course Mikasa would do that. So in the end, maybe it’s herself that she’s annoyed at, for wanting Mikasa to want more.

She sighs again, taking a step back. She needs to shift the focus of the conversation somehow, divert it away from Eren, or her feelings, or anything to do with this three-way situation that they have going. But she doesn’t know what to bring up, and the silence has been going on long enough now that any diversion would be obvious.

“Hey.” Ultimately it is Mikasa who speaks. “Can you teach me that move?”

“That move?”

“That impressive move. I could probably mimic it by trial and error, but you’re here now. So, if it’s not some sort of trade secret, show it to me?”

It’s a diversion, just like she wanted. Just like they both needed, and one she doesn’t mind. “Sure. Over here.” Heading to the space in between the living room and the kitchen, she pushes the couch further into the hall to create a wider open area. It’s not ideal, but it’ll work. After all, it’s just something for them to do as a distraction. She doesn’t believe for one second that Mikasa actually needs her to show the move to learn it.

Mikasa takes it seriously anyway, slipping off her jacket and scarf onto the couch, standing there at the ready, looking at her for direction. “What do I do?”

So it falls to her to take this seriously as well. “Come at me.”

Mikasa throws a punch, one she easily intercepts and redirects downwards. She feels Mikasa loosening her muscles then, to allow for her to manipulate the movements as she pulls the arm behind Mikasa’s back and takes hold of Mikasa’s wrist.

“Got it so far?”

She gets a nod, then a twitch and straightening of shoulders when she twists the wrist in her hand. Mikasa turns her head to glance at her but she keeps up the hold, letting Mikasa feel the strain as she inches closer to Mikasa’s behind. “Move with me now,” she says, slowly pushing her knee against the back of Mikasa’s. Mikasa gives without resistance, lowering herself to the floor knees first, until she’s flat on the ground. Then the clincher. She straddles Mikasa’s rear, hugging Mikasa’s body tight with her thighs, and channels her weight through her arm onto Mikasa’s wrist until Mikasa winces. She releases instantly. “And that’s it.”

Mikasa pulls away her twisted arm, flexing it out. “Simple and effective.”

She hums in agreement before suddenly realizing that she’s mounting Mikasa’s butt while Mikasa is flat face first on the ground. They’re back to front. A not at all uncommon position for them, but with the roles switched. She breathes in slowly, feeling a flush heat up her face as thoughts of all the things she wants to do to Mikasa comes to mind. She can’t say she’s ever fantasized much about this particular position, but she can definitely entertain it.

“Going to get off of me?” Mikasa asks when she doesn’t move, craning her neck to look up at her.

She smiles, shaking her head slightly. Then she places her hands just below Mikasa’s shoulder blades. “No, I like you like this. Under me. At my mercy.”

“Like the view from the top?” Mikasa laughs as she teases, but she also stays completely still, allowing Annie’s hands to wander.

“I do,” she answers, letting one hand slide between Mikasa’s shoulder blades, and then down along Mikasa’s spine.

Mikasa inhales, closing her eyes and shifting her body slightly, and it makes Annie’s mouth go dry. She wishes that Mikasa’s thick sweater isn’t in the way, that she could touch Mikasa directly, that she could see the tightening of Mikasa’s muscles, the roll of her shoulders, the rise of goosebumps on her skin, the arch and the curve of her back. Her hand reaches the hem of the sweater and there she pauses, torn between her desire to slip her hand under or to just stop here. She’s not supposed to touch Mikasa. However much she’s been pushing it, and however much Mikasa has been indulging her, just like she is now lying here pliantly with her eyes closed, that boundary still exists. She fingers the hem. This could be a chance. This could also be a test.

She swallows, exhaling shakily. Then she slips in. Slowly. So slowly, Mikasa could stop her if she wants. And just the tips of her fingers, to just barely skim over the skin above Mikasa’s waistband. Mikasa doesn’t react. So she glides her fingers to the right, then to the left, then back to the centre again, and right when she pushes her hand further in Mikasa rises on her elbows. She startles, immediately retracting her hand as she panics. Has she taken it too far? Has she crossed a line?

“Sorr—”

“I want to try that move too,” Mikasa cuts her off.

“Wha...”

In her panicked fluster, all she registers is that Mikasa is looking straight ahead, away from her. Her chest clenches as she quickly gets up, wondering if she really pushed too far this time. Mikasa could be coaxed into accepting more when they are in the heat of things, when they are already in so much contact that a wandering hand or two hardly matters. But what they’re doing now isn’t meant to be sexual. Maybe Mikasa genuinely wants to learn that move, and instead she’s messing around.

“Right. Let’s—let’s focus,” she says, offering her hand to help Mikasa up.

But Mikasa ignores it, pushing herself up in a flash. And then, even though she’s not attacking, she’s still standing there in a mix of trepidation and abashment, Mikasa now grabs her offered hand and pulls it behind her. She has to quell her flaring instinct to retaliate at the suddenness, but it’s not fast enough to stop her muscles from tensing so that the twist actually hurt, and so does her knees hitting the ground. She winces, hastily getting into the final position on her own lest Mikasa uses more force than necessary.

“Some warning would be really appreciated,” she throws back once she’s flat on the ground.

However much Mikasa is into this, it’s just rude to start when she is not prepared. But Mikasa’s only answer is to extend her hand, the one not twisting her left wrist against her back, up to pin the wrist of her other hand onto the floor. A shiver of alarm runs down her spine at Mikasa’s silence, made worse when Mikasa straddles her thighs and completes her immobilization. While that is the end goal of the move, the point has already been made even with just the wrist twist. There is no need to actually hold her down, to put her weight into it. She squirms, trying to communicate that this is enough, but Mikasa holds fast.

“Mikasa?”

“No names.”

Annie goes still, the implication of those words not lost to her. She swallows, feeling the hard floor beneath her as Mikasa presses her down. Here? Now? She was thinking it before but those are fleeting thoughts. She thought she made Mikasa uncomfortable but could it be she excited her instead?

“No names,” Mikasa repeats like a codeword, and then a little gentler, she adds, “Okay?”

Mikasa’s gray eyes are dark as they peer down at her, dark with desire like that first time Mikasa touched her, dark with desire that Mikasa rarely shows. And it turns all the alarm in her spine into pulsing arousal, sends heat into the pit of her belly where it throbs, raises goosebumps all along her back and arms and legs. That she cannot move only intensifies every one of those sensations.

“Yes,” she breathes, looking right into Mikasa’s eyes. “Yes. Okay.”

Something fierce burns in Mikasa’s gray orbs, something primal, but in direct contradiction to that the grip on her twisted wrist loosens enough to ease the strain, though Mikasa keeps it where it is against her back. Then Mikasa leans down, lifting her lower body off of her thighs while whispering into her ear.

“Up on your knees. Spread your legs.”

Her eyes widen at Mikasa’s words, at the note of _command._ There hasn’t been that note in a long time. She doesn’t hate that note. She often wishes there is more of that note. Before, it infuriated and aroused her in equal measure. Now, it infuriates her less and arouses her more. She bites her lip as she feels herself getting wet just from the command, and she does her best to obey, shimmying up to her knees one leg at a time with what little movement she’s allowed. The moment she succeeds Mikasa shifts, slotting one thigh in between hers, and then she feels Mikasa leaning forward again to press her body down so her heat rubs right against that well placed thigh.

Annie gasps, not at all expecting something like this. Not at all expecting them to do it like this. Mikasa draws back, ever so slowly repeating the motion of leaning forward to rock her body against her thigh, and she shudders at the drag of her slightly wet panties along her centre. She could almost make out the rough friction of Mikasa’s jeans through the thin of her shorts, and even thinner underwear, when Mikasa rocks her again.

“Oh god,” she exhales harshly, her body tensing down to her fingers and toes as the need shoots up to her head and she rocks back, wanting more than Mikasa is giving.

That’s when Mikasa stops, raising her upper body away, and Annie groans as she presses her head against the floor because she already knows what Mikasa is doing. But there’s something very embarrassing about doing this here, like this, held down on the floor in the middle of her house, even though it’s just the two of them and they’re fully dressed, that she really doesn’t want Mikasa to tease right now. She doesn’t know what it is about this particular situation, but she feels so open and so vulnerable yet also so aroused that it’s bordering on uncomfortable.

“I—I feel strange,” she admits. “Please don’t tease.”

The grip on her wrists loosens further as Mikasa’s voice gains a gentle edge. “Want to stop?”

Her centre flares with heat in protest, drawing to her attention once again the thigh that is snugly fit there. She aches for release. She knows Mikasa will give her what she needs. She knows Mikasa won’t hurt her. Everything else, she can deal with later. “No. Keep going.”

Mikasa bends down, kisses her ear, kisses behind it, sucks the lobe into her mouth, nips it, and it has her back arching as her hand on the ground scrabbles for something to hold. Then she gets that something when Mikasa’s fingers slip between her own, still keeping her hand pressed onto the floor, but now with their fingers intertwined. She turns to look at their joined hands, her heart rate spiking at the sight, at the feel. This hasn’t happened again since she told Mikasa it was really intimate. It cannot be that Mikasa forgot. It has to be deliberate. She grips the fingers with her own, pulling them into her palm. She wants this. She wants that Mikasa wants this.

“Grind on my thigh,” Mikasa drawls huskily against her neck. “Get yourself off. I want to watch you.”

If she had been more aroused, had received just a little more stimulation prior to this, Mikasa’s last sentence would have made her come. As it is, it gets her halfway there and completely overwhelms her hesitation because this is still embarrassing, Mikasa is still teasing, she has barely any leverage to move, but goddammit she wants that release. She lets out a throaty whine, pushing against the floor with her face, shoulders, hand, knees, anything for purchase, as she rocks herself on Mikasa’s thigh. She feels Mikasa’s lips on her nape, feels tongue and teeth and hot, heavy breaths and she rocks harder, faster, every grind making her knees and elbows quiver and quake.

It isn’t until she hears Mikasa whispering in her ear an endless stream of encouragements and reassurances that she realizes she’s making all sorts of desperate, pathetic noises but at this point she no longer cares. She can feel the building tension in the pit of her stomach, puling tighter and tighter and tighter, Mikasa’s every whisper sending pleasurable jolts straight into her head and into her chest and between her legs until—

“You’re so wet I can feel it through my jeans.”

—the tension snaps. Annie bucks, her back arching up as her orgasm hits her and she groans, long and low. Mikasa curls around her, pressing close as she rides out the aftershocks of her release, and she pulls in her hand still joined with Mikasa’s to wrap it under her head. Resting her cheek on Mikasa’s forearm, she hugs it tight as she breathes deeply, her body twitching and trembling still. She feels Mikasa’s head on her shoulder, hears her taking equally heavy breaths, and she looks to her arm pillow. This is the time Mikasa could be coaxed into accepting more. She thinks of all the things she could do that Mikasa would probably allow. She could run her thumb across Mikasa’s finger tips, she could push the sleeve out of the way, breathe against Mikasa’s skin, she could kiss, lick, maybe even bite the arm. Leave a mark. But instead, she just turns her head to where their fingers are intertwined, and feels. Burning that feeling into her memory.

They stay that way for a while, with her encased within Mikasa’s warmth on the floor. But eventually the afterglow passes and she begins to feel the strain on her muscles and joints, and the now incredibly uncomfortable sensation of thoroughly soaked panties. A violent flush colors her face when she realizes that Mikasa was telling the truth, that she really got so wet it seeped through Mikasa’s jeans. Her embarrassment from before comes crashing back, as does the feelings of openness and vulnerability, and suddenly this doesn’t feel so nice anymore.

Whether because Mikasa senses the shift, or simply because they’ve been there long enough, Mikasa makes the first move to extricate herself, and then helps her up to a sitting position. Wordlessly, Mikasa gingerly takes the arm that she has held pressed against her back the entire time and carefully flexes it out, gently massaging the numbness out of her muscles. She looks down at herself as Mikasa does that, noticing the indeed damp spot on her shorts. Discreetly, she pulls her knees up to her chest as she tries to spy Mikasa’s jeans, but Mikasa has that leg up as well, blocking her view.

She swallows harshly, hugging her knees closer to herself with her free hand, wanting to get up and leave because she’s so embarrassed but also wanting to stay put because she feels so raw. And it is so confusing. She doesn’t even know why she’s embarrassed, why she finds this so humiliating. Of course she’s wet, if anything it would be an ego stroke to Mikasa that she’s this wet. There’s nothing about this situation that should be embarrassing. They’re in the open in between the living room and the kitchen, yes, but there are no windows around, they’re alone, they’re even fully dressed. Not like the various times Mikasa has fucked her never removing any of her clothes while she is fully naked. Those are times that should have made her feel small, feel vulnerable, but they don’t.

The only time that has she felt remotely similar to this was the time with the blindfold, but instantly her mind reels against that comparison. Mikasa had been deliberately harsh then, her humiliation thus an understandable response. But this, this is different. Mikasa teases, but she is gentle, always checking in on her, and she agreed every step of the way. Amidst all of that, the restraining, that they’re barely touching, that she basically humped to orgasm on Mikasa’s thigh at Mikasa’s command, it even feels intimate. Maybe that’s the most confusing part. That this is what she finds most intimate, instead of all the times Mikasa touched her everywhere, inside and out. Those had felt indescribably good, brought her to fantastic orgasms, but this here, Mikasa gently massaging her arm, the phantom sensation of Mikasa’s fingers intertwined with hers, this is something else.

“Are you all right?”

She glances at Mikasa, sees the clearness of Mikasa’s steely gray eyes, and then she feels a sting of heat in her own. She shuts them and take a deep breath.

Mikasa’s hands instantly stills. “Annie? What’s wrong?” The palpable concern in Mikasa’s voice just makes it worse as she senses Mikasa shuffling closer. “Did I...I’m sorry—” She makes a grab for Mikasa’s arm, clenching it tight with her fingers and hearing Mikasa hiss.

“Don’t!” she snaps, swallowing back the sting as she opens her eyes to glare at Mikasa. “Do you even know what you’re apologizing for?”

The look on Mikasa’s face, that Mikasa opens her mouth but nothing comes out, is answer enough. Mikasa just saw the miserable expression she has and simply decided that that she must have done something wrong. But then again, she does that too.

“Did I hurt you?” Mikasa asks, finally finding her words. “Was I too—”

“No! No, all right? I’m okay, I liked that. All of it. So just shut up. Shut up and just—” _hold me._ She cuts herself off before she voices the words but it echoes in her mind unrestrained. Hold me. And then she realizes. That’s why she’s feeling like this. She focuses on Mikasa again, seeing the mix of worry and confusion on her face, one hand half lifted that Mikasa clearly doesn’t know what to do with, the other relaxed in her grip, and she drops her gaze to the space between them.

Mikasa has a pattern. A pattern of give and retreat, kindness and detachment. Even after she told Mikasa that the detachment upset her, it isn’t like it went away. Mikasa simply gave more when she gives, allows more when Annie pushes, made it less obvious when she retreats. But she still does retreat, where sometimes retreat simply means that it has reached a point where Mikasa cannot give anymore. And this is one such point. Mikasa has shown that she desires her, that something inside her desires intimacy with her, everything that she wants Mikasa to want, but all of this exists only within the moment. She knows Mikasa will not pursue it further. When this moment ends, Mikasa will retreat.

But she doesn’t have the option to do the same. That path to go back behind her, she spit on it herself the day she first entered Mikasa’s house. She doesn’t need it. She doesn’t want to retreat. She has to stay here. She has to stay here knowing that Mikasa can meet her halfway. And knowing that, she has to watch Mikasa turn back every time, while she is left wanting. She grips Mikasa’s arm harder, yanks at it to close the distance between their bodies.

“...Annie?”

She pushes her head into Mikasa’s shoulder, bringing her other arm to clutch at Mikasa’s sweater. “Stay here. Shut up and just stay here.”

She dreams of Mikasa. A dream unlike most of her other dreams of Mikasa. She doesn’t know where they are, or what they’re doing, if it’s one dream or many dreams, the background shifts from day to night to indoors to outdoors to rain to shine to snow to cloudy. But it is not the constantly changing surroundings that has the attention, it is the unchanging one. She’s on a bed, lying on her back, looking up. And above her, looking down, peering at her with dark gray eyes, is Mikasa. Where everything around them ebbs and flows, she is constant. Mikasa is constant. The bed is constant. That they’re looking at each other is constant. That they’re both clothed is constant. That Mikasa is straddling her thighs is constant. That Mikasa is pushing her hands into the bed, their fingers intertwined, is constant.

Maybe because this is a dream, where she is her true self, where Mikasa is a fragment of her own mind, she can be honest, she can admit to regretting that she didn’t appreciate it more when Mikasa actually held her just like this once. She should have savoured it. The feel of Mikasa’s fingers interlaced with hers, the heat of their joined palms, the fit of Mikasa’s hand, the intensity of Mikasa’s gaze. She savours them now, because this is real too. A memory of an event she foolishly cuts short. A memory she savours like the best scene in a movie. On loop. Is there a scene before this? Or after? None of that matters, only this present scene.

But all things come to an end, and so does the dream. The background shifts one last time, this time becoming her own room, and then Mikasa smiles, leaning down slowly. It is strangely calming as she watches Mikasa come closer and she closes her eyes even though she has no idea what would happen next. This part is no longer entrenched in reality. The last thing she feels are lips pressing onto her forehead.

When she opens her eyes it is dark. She takes a deep breath, glancing around to get her bearings. It is night time, it is snowing, she is indoors, in her bedroom, on her bed. There is a body in the bed with her, but it is not Mikasa. She blinks several times, exhaling her breath slowly as the dream begins to slip away. Closing her eyes again, she tries her best to retain as much of the dream as possible, but all she remembers are those moments before the end, of their held hands, of Mikasa’s smile, of the kiss on her forehead. That is when she notices suddenly, that her heart is pounding and that there is a smoldering warmth in her chest. Dreams of Mikasa usually inspire heat somewhere else completely, someplace south. But not this time. This time, the wanting is in her heart. She brings a hand up over her chest, feels the hammering, and takes another deep breath.

Then she turns her head to the body next to her, almost feeling bad for dreaming about Mikasa while someone else is in her bed. But this person has been in her bed for almost a year, and she’s been dreaming of Mikasa for almost as long. She has run out of guilt to give. Eren is on his side, facing her, clearly deep in sleep and she moves her gaze to his open palm laying on the pillow. Curiously, she reaches out to it, splaying out her palm over his. Immediately obvious is the size difference between his hand and hers, a difference that remains when she weaves between his fingers to hold them intertwined. It doesn’t fit, even when she tries to shift them around to find a best angle. But his hand is just too big. Finally she sighs, and pulls her hand back. It’s pretty telling that in all their time together, even in the beginning when she was convinced that they were compatible, that she was happy, she has never once dreamt of him as her lover. Something just never fit. And she is done pretending that maybe it will get better, that maybe in the future, her feelings will change. There is only one reason he is still in her bed. So that she can get access to that other person she wants in her bed.

She sits up, pushing the quilt off of herself as she wriggles her way out of it. Even though it is meaningless in the bigger picture, at the very least she doesn’t want to insult him by staying next to him after the thought she just had. There are things about him she doesn’t like, but he is a good person. And he doesn’t deserve this.

But Eren feels her movements and he stirs. “Annie...? What’s wrong?”

She places a hand on his shoulder, patting him soothingly. “It’s nothing. I’m just thirsty. Go back to sleep.”

He makes a noise of acknowledgment and quickly settles right back in. She waits until he’s taken three breaths before she stands, quietly swiping her phone and her hoodie jacket from the table as she exits the room and closes the door. Slipping on her jacket and zipping it up, she makes her way to the kitchen to grab a glass of warm water, just in case Eren is still awake and can hear her, before heading to the couch and sitting down. She spies the clock on the coffee table, and it tells her it’s five in the morning. That means she only got about four hours of sleep and she’s tired. She’s been up and about all day yesterday, from helping Reiner and Bertholdt with their special joint New Year’s and Bertholdt’s birthday performance for their restaurant, to having a mini party with her gym colleagues and some of the members, to meeting up with Eren for dinner and long walks after dinner, to finally going to the New Year’s countdown and fireworks show with all their friends.

Thankfully, they retire soon after the countdown, and Eren stays over despite her being too tired to give him what he wants. She looks towards the room. Maybe later she might return to bed, or maybe she’ll just stay here until the sun rises. Taking out her phone, she goes through her notifications, seeing a bunch of unread messages that are no doubt generic New Year wishes. She doesn’t bother to read them as she scrolls through the list, but there is nothing from Mikasa. Of course. Mikasa is in her retreat phase still. They haven’t spoken since that day, unless the brief smile Mikasa flashed her when their eyes met during the countdown counts. No, it definitely counts. It’s the same smile that appeared in her dream, that dream Mikasa smiles before she leans down and kisses her. She touches her fingers to her forehead, bringing back to mind what it had felt like. Not dream Mikasa’s kiss, but real Mikasa’s kiss.

She feels her heart starting to race again, accompanied by that fluttering sensation in her belly as her gaze slides over to the space between her living room and her kitchen. And she reminisces. How they eventually got up from the floor, how she cleaned herself up and changed her clothes, and how she then ate the Mimosa salad she won while sharing some with Mikasa. There is no awkwardness when Mikasa left. And that is all possible because Mikasa stays like she asked. The long silent minutes of her just pressing her face into Mikasa’s shoulder, Mikasa stays. When she finally does let go of Mikasa’s arm and sweater, some flimsy excuse on the tip of her tongue to explain away her no doubt odd behaviour, ready to simply brush this aside as nothing, Mikasa’s finger lands on her lips and puts a stop to everything. Startled, she looks up at Mikasa, only to have Mikasa’s other hand reach up to tenderly cradle her head. And then Mikasa leans in to press a kiss to her forehead.

Her face flushes hot from the very memory. She still doesn’t know what it was for. They never spoke of it before they parted, and haven’t had a chance since. Perhaps it is meant to comfort her, or to signal some sort of understanding. On the flip side, it could even have been a thoughtless gesture. As mindful as Mikasa is, she isn’t impervious to making questionable decisions compelled by on the spot emotions. But whatever Mikasa’s intentions were, isn’t what’s important. What motivated Mikasa doesn’t change what it means to her. What it made her grasp. What it made her feel. What she still feels.

With her heart still pounding in her blazing warm chest, she opens up Mikasa’s chat and types out a generic New Year’s wish. The important thing is how Mikasa responds. But it is still five in the morning, and there’s no way Mikasa is awake. She’s going to have to wait on that response. She looks towards her room again, contemplating whether to go back to sleep. Any sleepiness she might have had after waking from that dream, she’s washed away by coming out here and stewing in her thoughts. But if she doesn’t sleep, she knows she’ll be dead tired, leading to daytime naps that will just leave her feeling more lethargic later. She empties the glass of water she took, bringing it back to the kitchen to rinse, and decides to go back to bed after all. Then her phone buzzes in her hand.

It cannot be, but the timing is unmistakable. She quickly checks, and indeed it is Mikasa who has replied. She rushes back to the couch amidst rising drumbeats, grabbing the pair of headphones she keeps under the television table when she sees that Mikasa’s reply is not text, but an eight second voice clip. Plugging in the cable and pulling the earpieces on, she presses play and instantly hears Mikasa’s sleep-addled voice.

“ _Happy New Year. Annie...it’s five a.m.. Why are you awake?”_

That Mikasa woke up to read her message, and bothered to send back an immediate reply, sleep-addled as it is, says enough. Says more than she could even want. And she feels bad for being selfish, but she wants just a little more.

_I can’t sleep. Dream woke me up. Sing me a lullaby?_

That is probably too much but nevertheless she waits. She waits, and waits, and it takes a while, but eventually another voice clip appears, this one ninety seconds long. She’s stunned. Could it really be? She presses play again, and there is it. Mikasa’s voice, still sleepy, but doing its best to carry the simple melody, as Mikasa sings. She covers her mouth with one hand as her throat tightens and hitches her breath. It’s in Japanese, she doesn’t understand a thing, but she doesn’t make a sound as she listens through the whole thing. When the song ends, she’s tempted to play it again because as simple as it is, as sleepy as Mikasa sounds, regardless of the fact that she doesn’t understand any of it, it is beautiful and calming. But she discovers another voice clip below it, and so she plays that first.

“ _My mother used to sing that to me. Hope it helps. I’m going back to sleep now.”_

She quickly types a reply and hopes Mikasa gets it before she sleeps.

_It’s lovely. Thanks Mikasa. Sleep well._

The app feedback tells her that Mikasa sees the message as soon as it’s sent and her lips curve into a smile at that. Her heart is probably skipping beats by now, and she promptly plays the lullaby again while making herself comfortable on the couch. As Mikasa’s voice and the serene melody of the song fills her ears once more, she pulls up her hoodie over her head, fashions the armrest as a pillow, and closes her eyes. And then she imagines. She imagines a bed, Mikasa on the bed with her, holding her close, singing softly to her, and in her imagination, this time she is the one to take Mikasa’s hand in hers, to look Mikasa in the eyes, and to lean in, take Mikasa’s face in her hands, and kiss Mikasa on the lips.

In her imagination, Mikasa does not react. But in her dreams, Mikasa kisses back.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In regards to Mimosa salad, I did what Mikasa did. Just googled it and found that it was a popular Russian Christmas dish. Do excuse me if it's wrong. I'm gonna blame Google if so.
> 
> Anyway, there are tons of references in this chapter so I'm not gonna name them all. I had fun putting them in so if they are noticed and they tickle you that's awesome.
> 
> Lastly, that scene between Mikasa and Annie on the floor is probably my favourite scene so far. I don't know if I wrote it well but it's been on my mind for the longest time. It was initially just a smut scene but somehow along the way it turned into something a whole lot more emotional, and I love it.


	12. love, love is a verb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Annie tries her hand at romance.
> 
> \--
> 
> Chapter title taken from Teardrop by Massive Attack.

It is a total buzzkill when she opens her eyes to see Eren’s face, as he shakes her awake. And it is a further buzzkill when she tries to preserve the sensations from her dream, to remember the feel of Mikasa’s lips on her own, fabrication as they may be, only to have Eren badger her with endless questions as to why she’s sleeping on the couch, why she doesn’t have a blanket, why she didn’t return to bed, why has she fallen asleep with her headphones, whether she’s all right, it’s cold at night she could’ve gotten sick, and so forth. She doesn’t know what she said to shut him up. Maybe nothing. Maybe she just pretends sleepiness and heads right for the bathroom in the midst of his pestering.

She sighs once she closes the bathroom door and Eren finally quiets down. But by now the dream has effectively slipped away from her, and she can no longer feel that physical sensation of the kiss. Suddenly realizing the headphones are still on her head and she’s still carrying her phone, she pulls it off and places both devices aside as she brushes her fingers across her lips. She can no longer feel the physical sensation of the kiss, but she can feel the other thing it left behind. That warm, heart pounding sensation in her chest. Bracing her hands on the sink, she looks into the mirror and watches as her cheeks start to turn a slight pink. It makes her heart pound faster, which only reddens her cheeks further. It all feels so silly, but the fact that her reflection is smiling back at her is an undeniable truth.

She turns on the tap and splashes water onto her face, rubbing it a few times. She might feel silly, but she’s not dense either. The meaning of the dream is clear to her. The heart pounding sensation, the warmth in her face, that goofy grin she can’t even make go away, it’s all indicative of feelings. She has feelings for Mikasa. That feeling.

The admission is freeing. Like a burden off of her chest and her heart can now proudly beat for the truth. But the truth doesn’t eliminate the burden entirely. It simply moves it from her chest to hang over her head, especially when she sees Eren in her kitchen, preparing breakfast. Deep down, she knows that she has probably felt this way for Mikasa since after the anniversary trip. Or at least, that’s where it really started to bloom. She simply didn’t want to admit it. Without the admission, she could pretend that a relationship with Eren still has value. But now, with the admission, it all just feels like a masquerade. Of course she’s well aware she’s been cheating from the start, but the scale used to be tipped more towards Eren, with her not caring much for Mikasa. With her just using Mikasa. Now the balance has done a complete one eighty. And the feeling of not caring as much for someone she used to care about, is absolutely awful.

“Hey, more awake now?” Eren calls from the kitchen, noticing her standing there at the threshold of the living room. She focuses on him, and he grins at her. “I made breakfast. Nothing fancy though.”

She joins him at the table to eat, and it is as plain as he says. Toast and eggs. A valiant effort, considering the fact that she doesn’t have fancy ingredients to begin with. But at the corner of her plate, she sees something unusual. It is one of Mikasa’s gingerbread cookies. And there’s one on Eren’s plate as well. She looks at the tin in the center of the table, and then at Eren.

He’s sipping his coffee. “So, why didn’t you come back to bed?”

“I wasn’t sleepy,” she answers. “Thought I’d listen to some music. Must have dozed off.”

He nods, before he starts going on about how she should have came back to bed anyway or at least have taken a blanket, how it’s really cold because it snowed last night and she should take care not to fall sick, how surprised he was when she wasn’t in bed when he woke up, and at that point she takes the gingerbread cookie and bites it into half. Loudly. He stops, startled, and looks at her.

“I get it, Eren. I’ll take better care next time. Thanks.”

“Ah, yeah,” he replies weakly, clearly looking at the cookie in her hand, and then he clears his throat. “That gingerbread...it’s Mikasa’s, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she affirms. “A Christmas gift. She gave it to me together with the Christmas party prize.” Well, a few days earlier to be exact, but the details doesn’t change the fact.

“Really? A gift?” he asks, before a wide smile spreads on his face and he beams. “That’s great! For the longest time she’s only ever willingly given me and Armin stuff. That means she considers you a friend too. Family even. Which is great. God knows both of you have been at each other’s throats long enough.”

She frowns. What a strange thing to say. She quite likes Mikasa at her throat. Biting, breathing, licking, kissing, sucking. A mental image pops up, as does the phantom sensation of something warm and wet, and she stuffs the rest of her gingerbread cookie into her mouth, chewing vigorously. Evidently, what Mikasa does at her throat is not an ideal morning thought.

“Speaking of the Christmas party,” Eren goes on, and she switches her focus back on him. “I guess you heard what Sasha said, right?”

So he wants to talk about it now. She wondered when this might come up and she’s been thinking about how she should respond. Had he brought this up last night, she might have gone for surprise. Now though, she feels very differently. “Yeah, I heard it.”

“Right,” Eren replies, bringing his hand up to rub the back of his neck. “So like...I’ve never told you, but actually Mikasa...Mikasa fig—”

“I know,” she interrupts.

He blinks several times, closing and opening his mouth again. “...You know?”

Now though, she wants to come clean about it. To tell him that she respects Mikasa for it. To let him know she didn’t appreciate his snubbing of Mikasa because of it. To make it so all of them no longer need to dance around and hide it. “I’ve known for a while. I had a match with her once. It was impressive. She won.”

“You what?” Eren reels back, his eyes growing wide. “When was this?”

“Sometime in May.”

“May?! That’s...and you didn’t tell me?”

“Eren, you actively hid it from me. Mikasa was hiding it for you. She only agreed to the match if we kept it quiet.”

His surprise slips away as his expression hardens. “Clearly she didn’t hide it well enough.”

She scowls “Are you really going to get mad at her for this?” she asks incredulously. “It’s not like she told me outright. She tried to hide it. One of the reasons I didn’t like her initially was because I hated that she hid that part of her, like she wasn’t proud of it, like she was ashamed. But it wasn’t her, it was you. I had a suspicion, then I saw her at Kenny’s dojo. It turns out he’s a mutual friend. That’s how I found out. She didn’t even want to fight me. I had to persuade her.”

He opens his mouth like he wants to say more, to argue more, but at the mention of Kenny he quietens. “Oh...guess it’s true you fighters really get around the same circles.”

The sudden exclusion of himself, as though he’s not a fighter himself, doesn’t irk her as much as the fact that he’s still not acknowledging that Mikasa tried, that she isn’t at fault, that he’s the one who made her hide it. “Why did you want to hide it?”

“Why?” he scoffs, like the answer is obvious. “You fought her. She’s so ridiculously strong. I didn’t want to be compared. And the worst part is that she doesn’t even like to fight, even as a sport. She picked up some street brawling to help me fend off Armin’s bullies when we were younger but that was it. She never had interest in learning more. But guess who is the long lost descendant of a family of skilled fighters who only pass down their knowledge to their own? She trains under Levi. Fucking _Levi._ I was the one who got us backstage passes to meet him but his face when he heard her name, goddammit, then he shows up at our house a few days later because yes, it is the same damn Ackerman.”

“You’re jealous.”

“Yes, I’m jealous! I’m not special like her, so I can’t train under the man I’ve admired for years, while she who doesn’t even want it can. She offered to teach me behind Levi’s back but I don’t want her pity. You’re much better. You’re just as good as her, and without the exclusivity of her clan. In hindsight that’s probably for the better, imagine how much I’d be compared with her if Levi accepted me.”

“Eren,” she snaps back, his derisive tone now definitely bothering her. “I wouldn’t have compared you to anyone. Why would I even do that? You’re you. Mikasa is Mikasa. However good she is has no bearing on you. I met you first, and I thought you had a lot of potential. I still do. That you felt a need to hide it isn’t an insult to her, or yourself, it’s an insult to me.”

He is immediately taken aback as his face falls. “No! That wasn’t what I meant with it at all. It’s just...Mikasa is good at everything. I just wanted something for myself. I wanted something with you for myself.”

“It isn’t enough that we’re dating? Isn’t that something we have for ourselves?”

The moment the words leave her mouth she knows she’s going to regret saying that at some point, because the hypocrisy isn’t lost to her. But right now she’s still irked. Because he’s still snubbing Mikasa. And the unfairness of his words aren’t lost to her either. She’d rather be a hypocrite than let that slide again. Before, she didn’t care enough about Mikasa to defend her. She might have even seen Eren’s point about Mikasa’s lack of passion for fighting. But she knows something more now, something she hopes that Eren doesn’t. Because if he does, and he’s still saying this, she’d do more than just snap at him.

But the guilt trip works, like she expects it would, and his shoulders slump as he drops his eyes. “I...You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Mikasa continues to speak Japanese, goes to Japan every year, because it is her way of connecting with her deceased mother. Thus it only makes sense that likewise, Mikasa learning and continuing the style of fighting passed down through the Ackerman family, regardless of whether she likes it or not, is Mikasa’s way of connecting with her deceased father. And no one has any right to criticize her for that.

“I’m not the one you should apologize to.”

It doesn’t even cross her mind at the time, that he would actually apologize. She only said it to make a point. He might have insulted her with his assumptions, but the one who is hurt is probably Mikasa. Yet, the text she gets a few days later from Mikasa herself proves her wrong, and she has to admit she’s surprised.

_So I just had a really strange conversation with Eren about his making me hide that I fight from you. It ended with him saying sorry. Your doing?_

_Should I not have?_

_Not at all. It was really refreshing. Thanks Annie._

That is all it takes to wash away the stirrings of uneasiness that she had began to feel in the aftermath of her guilt tripping Eren. Maybe she had said too much, maybe she shouldn’t get away with such hypocrisy, but Mikasa’s gratitude makes it worth it. It makes her giddy to know she’s done something for Mikasa, something that Mikasa appreciates. It also makes her realize that she hasn’t done much for Mikasa at all, whereas Mikasa has done a lot more for her. She wants to change that, wants her actions to reflect the admission and acceptance of her feelings. She wants to show Mikasa her appreciation for her. But at the same time, she’s aware that may not be something Mikasa wants.

Her feelings have no bearing on Mikasa’s, that much is clear. Her newfound revelation doesn’t change the reality of the situation that her relationship with Mikasa is tied to her relationship with Eren. Breaking up with the latter spells an end to the former as well. But confessing her feelings is not an option either. If Mikasa does not feel the same, Mikasa will end things. If Mikasa does feel the same, it will pit Mikasa against her own brother, and Mikasa will bow out. If Mikasa does nothing, then they will just remain stuck at this impasse. Those are the two ultimate truths. All the roads lead to unfavourable outcomes, and if there is a way around this, she hasn’t figured it out.

But it doesn’t stop her from still wanting to do something for the time being. Because even if nothing has objectively changed about her, everything has subjectively changed. So she’s not jumping into Mikasa’s arms when she sees her, but inside, she’s soaring. She’s giddy, she’s excited, and she’s never had feelings like this for anyone else. But that’s exactly how she knows what this is. This is different. This is real.

“This is for you,” she says when Mikasa opens her door.

Mikasa accepts the gift, brows furrowed slightly in surprise. “What’s this for?”

“For all the things you’ve ever fed me. All the cooking. Cakes. Cookies. All that.”

Mikasa makes a noise of acknowledgement, but her brows remains furrowed, now tinged with confusion. “And in return you give me a fruit basket?” She watches as Mikasa scans through the basket, and when Mikasa’s confusion turns to comprehension she lets a grin show on her face. “With a watermelon, apples, strawberries and pomegranates.”

“All red ones,” she adds pointedly.

Mikasa looks at her, none too amused. Nevertheless, she takes the basket with her as she moves into the house. “A+ for effort, I guess. Thanks.”

Annie follows Mikasa in, at this point anything barring a clear no is implied invitation. And despite Mikasa’s rather lukewarm response to the gift, she sees the slightest flush on Mikasa’s cheeks. It makes her wonder if Mikasa is simply unused to receiving things. Like that time she calls Mikasa a sexy bitch. A blush had been Mikasa’s very first reaction, before the whole thing was brushed off as playful teasing. Perhaps Mikasa has remained single all this while by choice, because she simply didn’t want to be in a relationship. But the idea that Mikasa hasn’t had suitors, hasn’t received so many gifts, and compliments, and professions of interest that she’s beyond used to it by now, is quite the stretch. Because Mikasa is Mikasa. Surely she isn’t the only person who sees how incredibly attractive Mikasa is.

And damn it all, now she’s the one flushing with a rising heart rate as she watches Mikasa put away the fruit basket onto her dining table, taking the packet of strawberries out. Everything about Mikasa is absolutely captivating. Thankfully, the very distinctive scent of chocolate distracts her and she looks around for the source. But it is not a distraction she finds when she locates the source. It is a breath hitching sight. “You’re...making doughnuts?”

“I made doughnuts,” Mikasa corrects, heading back to the kitchen counter with the strawberries in tow. “All that’s left is to pipe the chocolate sauce in. I think I made too much sauce though, so these strawberries will go nicely with the leftover.”

Sometimes she wonders if the coincidences surrounding the things Mikasa gives her are not actually coincidences, like the sweet nutty cookies that Mikasa just happened to be baking when she dropped by unannounced, but rather, they are deliberate. And not even deliberate like the gingerbread cookies, which Mikasa meant for Eren to see, but actually deliberate with her in mind, like her gingerbread likeness, and the pomegranate cheesecake. Mikasa can claim all she likes that the cheesecake is just happenstance, but the timing in which she bakes it, one day before the day Mikasa knows she’ll come over, is suspicious in hindsight. And now, there’s doughnuts.

Maybe it is conceit on her part, or a rabbit hole of wishful thinking spurred by her desire for Mikasa to feel the same for her, that she’s taking apart every of Mikasa’s actions, hoping to find clues of Mikasa’s intentions, ascribing meaning to behaviors where there are probably none. It’s almost like Mikasa can’t be making doughnuts for Eren and Armin. And that’s silly. She sighs and approaches the counter herself, slipping a hand into the pocket of her jeans to finger the item in there. This feelings thing seems a lot more complicated than she imagines.

“Is there anything you can’t make? Eren and Armin are lucky beyond belief to always have you making stuff for them,” she says, taking a seat at the counter.

Mikasa looks up from where she’s holding the piping bag in the first doughnut. “You’re not going to include yourself in there? You’ve been getting a taste of all the stuff I make for a while now.”

“Yeah, but you’re not making them for me,” she replies, and then she laments exaggeratedly. “I’m hurt. Doughnuts are special to me.”

Mikasa chuckles, but she doesn’t deny anything said. And now Annie wishes she hadn’t confirmed her own insignificance. But it’s not like she hasn’t suspected this possibility already. She tries not to let herself be bothered. Instead, she merely observes as Mikasa continues to pipe in the chocolate sauce into each individual doughnut. Filled doughnuts aren’t exactly her preferred type of doughnuts anyway, that goes to the classic ring ones, but the chocolate sauce does genuinely smell delectable and the look of concentration on Mikasa’s face as she goes about the task is entrancing.

“You’re amazing.”

That gets Mikasa’s attention as she stills her hands and lifts her steel gray eyes to meet Annie’s questioningly. “What?”

“You’re amazing,” she repeats, capping it off with a small smile. “I haven’t seen anything that you can’t do, and I think that’s amazing. That you can do anything you put your mind to.”

“Oh. Um...thanks,” Mikasa replies after a perplexed pause, followed by an immediate dropping of her gaze to resume the task of piping the sauce.

But Annie catches the color that rises to Mikasa’s cheeks. A tinge of pink that makes an ember flare up in her chest. And she smirks. Is this what it’s like when Mikasa teases her? Because she could definitely get used to this. “You’re beautiful.”

Mikasa promptly puts down the piping bag. “Okay, now this is just strange. What are you trying to butter me up for this time?”

“What?” Annie snickers in response. “What makes you think I’m trying to butter you up at all?”

“Because you never talk like that unless you want something. Out with it.”

She wants Mikasa. That’s what she wants. But that is perhaps the pinnacle of things she cannot say for real. So she smiles amicably and agrees with Mikasa. “Okay fine, I am trying to butter you up. But it’s true regardless. You are beautiful.” Mikasa can be coaxed to accept her touch when they are in the heat of things, and in the same vein, Mikasa can be convinced to accept compliments under the guise of playful teasing. If that is the only way she can convey them, then she’ll do it.

“Enough. Out with it,” Mikasa says again, but the flush on her cheeks are darker than before.

And that’s satisfactory for now. So she redirects her focus onto the small item in her pocket as she takes a deep breath and pulls it out. Then, as casually as she can, she places the item down onto the counter and slides it over to Mikasa. “I’m trying to butter you up to accept this.”

“A key?” Mikasa asks, peering curiously at it.

The key to her heart. Goddammit what is happening to her? When did she become so mushy? This feelings thing is turning her into a marshmallow. She discreetly swallows for steadiness as she pushes the key just a little closer to Mikasa. “It’s the key to my front door.”

Her heart rate spikes as Mikasa lifts a scrutinizing eyebrow at her response. Mikasa glances at her with a frown. “And why exactly are you giving me the key to your front door?”

She reminds herself to stay calm, even letting a little grin show. “So that you can lock the door when you leave and I don’t have to get up to do it.”

The scrutiny then turns into an unimpressed stare. “Really? You’re making me accomplice to your laziness?”

“Hey, if you can have a taste of the state you often leave me in, you’ll absolutely get why I find it such a chore to get up and lock the door.”

“And you’re always telling me not to stroke my own ego, who’s the one doing it now?”

She shrugs, widening her grin. “It’s true. You always leave me euphoric and sated. The perfect state to go to sleep in. You’re phenomenal.”

The flush returns, but it is there only briefly before Mikasa scowls and rolls her eyes. “All right. I’ll take it so you can have your beauty sleep. You can stop with the buttering now.” And then Mikasa places a plate before her and a doughnut on top of it. “Have a doughnut.”

She looks down at the doughnut and picks it up, deciding to heed Mikasa and lay off the flattery. As fun as it is, and as much as she means them, too much would probably have Mikasa retreating into her detached phase. The goal of her flattery has been met anyway, even if Mikasa believes she gave her the key for a lesser reason than she actually did. Somewhere in Mikasa’s initial scrutiny, the real reason must have crossed her mind, and it is a shame that she has to waylay Mikasa to think otherwise. But at this moment, this is the only way to have Mikasa accept anything from her. She can play along.

“Thanks,” she says, feeling the weight of the doughnut in her hands and just imagining how utterly full of chocolate it must be. Her mouth is watering already but as she’s about to bite in she glances over towards Mikasa and counts seven doughnuts before her, excluding the one in her hands. She pauses. “Aren’t you giving some to Eren and Armin? Eight seems a small number to make.”

She tries to work out the division in her head. Three each, coupled with giving her one now, would leave Mikasa with one. But two each seems rather dismal and would leave Mikasa with three, which doesn’t seem right either. The only option that makes sense is if there was nine, and Mikasa had already eaten one before she arrived. Then should she really eat this one and leave Mikasa with just one?

“No,” Mikasa answers, and it throws all her unnecessary math out of the window. “I’ll keep two for myself. You can take the other five with you when you leave.”

She blinks. “Pardon?”

Mikasa puts down the doughnut she just filled and picks up the last empty one as she raises her head and smiles with dismay. “I made these for you. I’m a little miffed you found them before they’re ready though.”

“Oh,” she replies almost dumbly. “You made them for me?”

“Yes,” Mikasa confirms. “Are you happy now? Eat your doughnut.”

She takes a bite, and instantly her mouth overflows just as her heart is overflowing. One with chocolate, the other with that intense giddiness. Because she isn’t being conceited after all. She assumed rightly about the doughnuts, that they are indeed deliberate. And now her mouth is swamped with chocolate. It’s delicious, but it’s everywhere. On the roof of her mouth, under her tongue, sticking to her teeth. She chews and swallows with effort and then she gives Mikasa a look.

“You know, I’m really happy you made these for me, but I think you went overboard with the chocolate,” she says, still trying to lick them off her teeth.

“Nonsense,” Mikasa replies, removing the piping bag from the final doughnut. “There’s no such thing as going overboard with chocolate. You like extra sweet doughnuts anyway.”

She can’t argue with that. The fact that Mikasa made them for her means that she’ll definitely eat them all anyway. It would probably go very well with her extra black coffees too. So she takes a second bite, feeling another burst of chocolate, as she watches Mikasa produce a paper box much like the ones used by doughnut shops and into the box Mikasa places the five doughnuts that are probably for her to take home. Mikasa then closes the box and pushes it over to her side of the counter as though to emphasize that yes, these really are for her, and she gets another wave of giddiness.

It’s making it really hard to eat with all the butterflies in her stomach but she pushes through, taking the third bite. This one gets messy, and she feels the chocolate seep out onto the corners of her mouth, but her no doubt chocolate covered tongue would only smudge it even worse, so she decides to finish the doughnut first. That resolution derails the moment she notices Mikasa picking up the key from the counter top. She waits with bated breath for a reaction.

Mikasa examines the key closely, before turning towards her. “Is Eren going to recognize this? Should I keep this separately from the rest of my keys?”

She shakes her head. “He won’t recognize it. He doesn’t have my key.”

“He doesn’t?”

“He usually stays the night. So he’s never leaving in the wee hours of the morning where I have to drag myself out of bed to go lock the door after him when I’d rather be sleeping.”

“You’re just lazy,” Mikasa says lightly, but all the same she walks out of the kitchen and disappears around the corner, before returning with a marker pen in hand. “Well, I’ll need an identifier.”

Annie eats the last bite of her doughnut with a sense of relief as Mikasa uncaps the pen, writing two letters onto the body of the key. An S and a B. Her brows furrow together as she considers the letters. SB? That’s obviously not her initials, and understandably, her initials might be too easy a giveaway. But SB doesn’t ring any bells, she isn’t associating it with anything, much less anything associated with her. She looks at Mikasa who is now sporting a rather smug smirk, like she’s waiting for her to guess what SB might be. And she’s never one to back down from a challenge.

“Sexy back?”

Mikasa lets loose a chuckle that instantly tells her she’s wrong. But as a consolation, she does seem impressed by it. “I never thought of that one. That’s actually a good one.”

“Sexy bitch?” she tries again.

“Isn’t that mine? And why are you only thinking of sexy for S?”

She frowns. If it’s not sexy back or sexy bitch then she doesn’t know what it is. Are there anything else SB between the two of them? Her eyes catch sight of the packet of strawberries. Strawberry something? That doesn’t seem right. “I don’t know. What is it?”

Mikasa answers immediately. “Short blonde.”

And her jaw slackens and falls open. She hasn’t been teased for her height in a long time. She hasn’t been teased for her height by Mikasa ever. “Oh, you’ve done it now.” She wants to reach for her phone but her fingers are stained with chocolate. “You just wait. I’m going to call Kenny and we’re going to have a rematch whether you want it or not. And then I’m going to pound your fucking tall ass into the ground.”

Mikasa’s only response is to laugh. Hysterically. Like she’s never seen before. Although whether it is due to her reaction in general or due to the unintended sexual innuendo that she’s only now realizing she made, she doesn’t know. But she doesn’t let that deter her, quickly licking her fingers clean as Mikasa struggles to regain her breath. One hand done, she reaches into her pants to pull out her phone.

“Wait—!” Stop!” Mikasa manages through her still shaking shoulders. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I take it back. Let’s not fight again, please.”

She’s already scrolling through her contacts but she pauses. “You’ll take it back?”

“Absolutely. It’s sexy back now. Okay? SB is your exceptionally sexy back.”

“And don’t you mix that up,” she huffs, returning her phone into her pocket and trying to pretend the heat in her face is because of her indignation and not the sexy back comment that brings to mind the few times that she had tried to look at her own back in the mirror, trying to figure out what exactly Mikasa finds sexy about it. It looks like any regular well toned back to her, but the way Mikasa almost worships it sometimes, with a lot of lips and tongue and hot, heavy breaths, it makes her wonder.

Then her mouth goes dry, and she’s suddenly aware of the heat pooling between her legs. Clearly, she shouldn’t have let her mind go there. Trying to temper her unanticipated arousal, she stuffs the fingers of her other hand into her mouth and focuses on licking off the chocolate as distraction. It would have worked better if there isn’t something inherently sexual about licking fingers the way she’s licking them—all around, sucking lightly—that only seems to exacerbate her arousal. She resorts to giving her forefinger a sharp bite, hoping the pain will work better. And it does start to work, right up until—

“You’ve got chocolate around your mouth,” Mikasa comments from the side where she’s drying her hands after washing up some of the doughnut making apparatus. Then without preamble, she reaches over to wipe off the chocolate with her fingers. Middle and forefingers for the corner of her lips, thumb swiping along the lower lip, and ring finger along the upper one. When Mikasa finally draws her hand back slightly, she sees the chocolate smudges on Mikasa’s fingers. “There, done.”

But she’s no longer paying attention to the chocolate. The fire simmering in her belly ignites as her lips tingle fiercely from the touch of Mikasa’s fingers. Because they do not kiss and she’s not allowed to reciprocate, any contact her lips make with Mikasa is purely accidental or sneaked in when Mikasa gets close. This is the longest contact Mikasa has ever made with her lips. It’s not meant to be sexual, surely, but it is because she’s already aroused. And it reminds her of that other time Mikasa laid her finger on her lips, that incredibly intimate feeling just before Mikasa kisses her forehead. There’s something intimate here too, the idea of Mikasa cleaning her up with her fingers, of touching her lips with her fingers. She swallows harshly, looking again at Mikasa’s digits smudged with chocolate just before her face. Her insides are doing somersaults, and when Mikasa begins to pull her hand back, Annie wraps her own around Mikasa’s wrist and stops her.

There are questions in Mikasa’s raised eyebrows, but she doesn’t say anything as she pulls Mikasa’s hand closer, slowly, so that Mikasa can see exactly what she plans to do. And so that Mikasa can put a stop to it, if she wants to. When her lips make contact with Mikasa’s thumb, she parts them open, extends her tongue out, and licks. The taste of Mikasa’s skin mixed in with the sweet bitterness of the chocolate, Mikasa’s sharp gasp at her action, is fireworks on her tongue and music to her ears. And it makes her so, so wet. She chases that feeling, doing it again, using the flat of her tongue to get all the chocolate, and then the tip to lick up her saliva, savouring the texture of Mikasa’s skin. Then she moves on to the forefinger, the middle, the ring, slowly repeating the process each time, making sure to lick until she can no longer taste any trace of chocolate, before she finally retracts herself, sucking off any excess saliva from Mikasa’s fingers.

Only after that does she make eye contact with Mikasa, finding Mikasa staring at her with widened eyes, dilated pupils, taking long and measured breaths, all obvious signs of arousal, and all signs she’s sure she’s mirroring, multiplied by ten. The tension roiling around in her belly feels like it’s going to burst if she doesn’t do anything to relieve it. She lets go of Mikasa’s wrist, watches Mikasa pull her hand back, and the tension spikes to a high.

“I’m so turned on right now,” she admits.

“I bet,” Mikasa replies, too easily. Her smile is teasing, but Annie notes that it’s shaky. “What did you expect from doing something like that?”

It’s all the green light she needs. She stands up and takes hold of Mikasa’s forearm. There are no longer any boundaries for when they go over to each other’s place, but when it comes to sex, they always fall back on the initial agreed upon times. Thursday and Sunday nights. That on the floor grinding incident is the only anomaly so far. But just because they’ve never tried it outside those agreed upon times, it doesn’t mean it’s not okay. She just has to break the pattern. Turning to the bedroom, she pulls Mikasa along as she heads towards it.

“Really? Now?” Mikasa exclaims, but noticeably, she doesn’t resist the pull either.

“Remember that time you had me pressed onto the floor?” A stuttered noise is all she hears from Mikasa as she tugs them both into the threshold of the bedroom. Mikasa probably sees her point, but she damn well doesn’t want Mikasa to allow this as some sort of compensation. She wants Mikasa to want this. The boundary is ‘however much is comfortable’ for _both_ of them and so if Mikasa doesn’t want this, then she’ll just have to deal with this herself. Rub one out or let it pass, whatever. Mikasa’s consent matters more than her own desires. She turns to face Mikasa at the foot of the bed, releasing her forearm. “No?”

But she hasn’t judged Mikasa’s reaction to her finger licking wrongly. Mikasa’s nostrils flare at the question, and then she closes their distance to wrap her arms around her waist, tipping them both backwards onto the bed. “Yes.”

The consent is permission for her arousal to boil over, confirmation that she need not keep it in check, and she grabs on to Mikasa’s shirt to pull her close, pressing her forehead against Mikasa’s as her body thrums with desire. The proximity, Mikasa’s breath mingling with hers in that little space between their lips, makes her want to just lean in and kiss her. She bites her lip to keep from doing that, clenches her fists into Mikasa’s shirt, but it doesn’t do much to stave off the want. She wants to kiss Mikasa. She want to kiss her so badly.

“What do you want me to do?” Mikasa asks in a whisper.

_Kiss me._

“I don’t care,” she says, shaking her head. “I don’t care. Just get me off.”

Maybe once Mikasa gets her edge off, she can stop wanting to completely bulldoze through the boundaries. Most are defined by ‘however much is comfortable’ but three are absolutely untouchable. Kissing, reciprocating, and using names. Doing any of these is likely the equivalent of stop to Mikasa, and she doesn’t want to stop. But she cannot go back to a time she didn’t want those things either.

She closes her eyes not to see Mikasa’s lips and pulls at Mikasa’s shirt needily. “Please get me off.”

Mikasa does just that, gripping her firmly around the waist, and then hauling her up and over to straddle Mikasa’s lap as Mikasa flips them around. It is immediately strange to look down at Mikasa because she’s never on top but all of that ceases to matter when Mikasa pops the buckle of her jeans. Nothing else matters except the need for Mikasa to touch her right now. She tries to wriggle out of her pants the moment the zipper goes down, but Mikasa seems not to care for it, slipping her hand in at the opening to touch her through her underwear.

“Oh fuck,” she gasps, Mikasa’s pressing fingers revealing how wet she already is.

Once again, they do not take of any of their clothes, and Mikasa simply draws patterns through the thin cloth onto her centre, spawning waves and waves of fiery heat that licks around her insides, sending up the thick smoke of arousal along her spine into her extremities and into her head. She arches her back at the sensations, rocking against Mikasa’s fingers as Mikasa gently nips at her exposed neck, her other hand wrapped around her waist. The pace is unhurried, leisurely, classic Mikasa, and she should hate it with how much she wants to get off but surprisingly, there isn’t any of the urgency she had just moments ago. Mikasa’s touch is soft yet unrelenting, her gentle nips teasing yet dizzying, and they are all stimulating to her senses in the best ways. So she lets herself relax into this pace, slowly grinding against Mikasa’s fingers and matching her breaths with Mikasa’s own.

She doesn’t know why their sex has evolved into this, like they’re going backwards of how sex typically progresses. Instead of grinding and fingering through clothes eventually leading to full nudity, toys and rough sex, they’ve done it the opposite way. But it also feels like it couldn’t have gone any other way, and she doesn’t even want it to. This here with Mikasa feels nice, feels right. Because it isn’t about fantastic sex or mind blowing orgasms anymore. Mikasa has proven her capability to give her that over and over again. She doesn’t want or need awesome sex. She just wants _Mikasa_ to touch her. So long as it is Mikasa, it doesn’t matter what, when, where, which or how. That it is Mikasa is enough.

Weaving her arms around Mikasa’s shoulders and tangling her hands into Mikasa’s hair, she uses Mikasa’s frame as support to rock herself harder against Mikasa’s fingers. This close, she can smell Mikasa’s shampoo with every breath she takes, and feel Mikasa groan into her neck with every breath she exhales past Mikasa’s ear. It makes her want to grab on to Mikasa’s hair, to tip Mikasa’s head up and crush their lips together, kissing her until they’re both senseless with need. A fresh wave of heat spreads out from between her legs at the thought and she moans, clenching her thighs tightly against Mikasa’s hips.

Mikasa inches back slightly at that, nipping at her chin with a certain attention seeking determination, while she’s only nominally aware of the fingers in her jeans pushing aside the fabric of her underwear, an awareness she only gains because of how uncomfortable her scrunched up underwear feels wedged in the small space of her jeans. But nothing happens after that, until finally, perplexed, she attends to that incessant nipping and looks down, meeting the dark gray eyes watching her carefully, and _then_ the fingers push into her heat.

She chokes out a gasp, her fingers fisting Mikasa’s hair as her body shudders uncontrollably from the suddenness of that action. “Oh god, oh fuck...”

Mikasa immediately nuzzles her ear, laying soothing kisses onto it as the fingers inside her holds still and unmoving. “Okay?”

Even unmoving, she can feel herself getting wetter around Mikasa’s fingers, can feel it seeping out to coat Mikasa’s palm, and it takes the strength from her muscles. She can only nod as she rests her head on Mikasa’s shoulder, wanting nothing more than to stay like this, breathing in Mikasa’s scent and feeling Mikasa’s pulse with her cheek while Mikasa touches and teases her to orgasm. But of course that’s exactly what she doesn’t get when Mikasa leans back, unwrapping the arm around her waist to brace her weight, and just peers at her. Teasing to the point of agony is typical of Mikasa, but there is nothing teasing about the expression on her face now.

“Ride my fingers.”

Her stomach knots and knots and knots and she swallows. “You’ve picked up a despicable fascination of making me work for it myself.”

Mikasa shakes her head as she smiles. “I just like to watch you.” The words makes all the knots twist wildly, makes all her muscles tremble and twitch, makes all her fingers and toes curl into themselves. And when she can suddenly feel the presence of Mikasa’s fingers so very keenly, she realizes her inner walls are squeezing tight. Her face burns hot like a forest fire with the awareness, more so when Mikasa’s smile widens as she brushes her thumb over her clit lightly. “It seems you like it when I watch you too.”

“Screw you,” she bites back even as her hips jump from that feather touch on her clit. Even as her hips start to move just like Mikasa wants, thrusting in search of that thumb just out of reach, and bucking up and down on Mikasa’s unmoving fingers.

And then she closes her eyes, suddenly finding this situation highly embarrassing, just like the time on the floor of her house. Maybe even more, because at least that time, Mikasa was occupied with kissing her nape and they were back to front. Now, they’re front to front, and Mikasa is literally doing nothing but staring at her as she rides her. Even if she now knows why it’s embarrassing, it isn’t like she can control the feeling. Because Mikasa is watching her bare her feelings where she can’t hide it in the dark of the night, where she can’t mask it in her non-existent shyness for her nudity, where she can’t escape Mikasa’s watchful eyes that are doing nothing else.

It is scary, to know that Mikasa is witness to this truth, that her heart is in Mikasa’s hands. It was humiliating before because Mikasa could have done anything with it. To put it down and walk away, to toss it aside, to trample on it. Some part of her even believed that Mikasa would do that. But of all the things she could have done, Mikasa simply holds her heart gently, and gives it a forehead kiss. It is acknowledgement, or understanding, or if thoughtless, it is compassionate. So it _is_ scary, and it _is_ embarrassing to reveal so openly, but she is not afraid. She trusts Mikasa with her feelings.

Mikasa’s thumb is rubbing tight circles into her clit now, and she doesn’t know when it got there, when it began doing that, but the rush of pleasure has her shaking, throwing her head back and panting for dear life. Then Mikasa pushes a third finger into her, presses against that soft spot inside her, and it spills over. The force of her orgasm is overwhelming and her entire awareness blanks out momentarily, leaving her with splintered sensations of blood rushing, heart pounding, chest heaving, muscles spasming, fingers clenching, as she grinds her release of all its worth on Mikasa’s long fingers. Mikasa helps her along, fingers moving in tandem with her desperate thrusts and before long she realizes that rather than prolonging her orgasm, she’s building another one right on top of it.

“Oh shit,” she gasps. “Oh my god, fuck, fuck—!”

It isn’t the first time Mikasa has coaxed multiples out of her, but it is the first time she’s having the second so close to the first. She doesn’t even know if she wants it. It feels like she’s going to fall apart. She pushes her face into Mikasa’s shoulder for support, murmuring incoherent nonsense that is mostly cursing and calling out to some unknown entity in the sky to save her from whatever this brimming feeling is, but then amidst all of that, she picks up a strain of something else that very almost leaves her mouth.

“Oh god, oh god, holy shit Mika—”

And she shuts herself right up with a sharp bite to her tongue. But the slightest pause in Mikasa’s ministrations tells her Mikasa heard it too. Then Mikasa gets back to it and she moans, burying her mouth into the crook of Mikasa’s neck to not say anything else. Her pleasure is now an escalating torrent, and everything else is insignificant in the face of it. She can’t think about why has she just tried to call Mikasa’s name, how she never calls out names during sex, how she has never called out any names during sex, not even of her previous sexual partners. She’s so confused but she can’t think because Mikasa’s fingers are still moving, and moving, and moving, and her confusion drowns within that pressure of something about to erupt within her. She muffles her moans into Mikasa’s skin, sucking in lungful of breaths through her nose, and then she shatters.

Everything becomes too much suddenly. Every sound, every touch, every sensation blending together into a mass of overstimulation that is almost more painful than it is pleasurable. Almost. If Mikasa keeps going, it would be. Mercifully Mikasa does stop, although maybe that’s because she’s spewing out a litany of stop and too much in between her gasps for breath. She feels like a million pieces, like her consciousness has been separated from her body, with every aftershock sending a piece of her flying further away. One part of her feels so light she imagines this is what heaven feels like, the other part feels like she’ll never be whole again. The only thing that anchors her are the beats of Mikasa’s heart, the sound of their matched breaths, and slowly, it lulls her back down from her high and puts her shattered self back together. When she finally feels like she can trust her body with movement once again, she carefully opens her eyes and lifts her head.

The first thing she sees are Mikasa’s lips. She freezes, staring at that very pink, very luscious pair of lips, parted slightly, with warm breaths rushing past them, and a bubbling stirs in her chest. It would take precious little to simply lean in and kiss her. To kiss Mikasa like she’s been wanting to kiss her, long and deep and repeatedly. She could blame it on the post-orgasmic bliss, a surge of oxytocin that is clouding her rationality. She’s even now growing aware that Mikasa hasn’t extricated her fingers from deep inside her and their connection just adds to her desire. She wants to do it. She really wants to do it.

But ultimately, she doesn’t. She doesn’t do it because even after she moves her hands from Mikasa’s hair to cradle her face, when she’s leaning in to the point that it has to be obvious what her intentions are, Mikasa doesn’t do anything to stop her. Her eyes flick up to meet Mikasa’s, only to find Mikasa watching her closely. And then she realizes that Mikasa is going to let her do it. And once, back when she didn’t care for Mikasa’s feelings, when this was all about her selfish desires, she would have done it. She would have taken what she wanted, no regrets. But now, she cares too much about Mikasa to press her into this. She wants Mikasa to want the same things she does. Dropping her gaze for one last look at Mikasa’s lips, she pushes herself away.

Taking her cue, Mikasa too withdraws her hand, and Annie shivers at the little tremors the action elicits. Then as Mikasa raises it, a look of astonishment falls over her face, one that Annie understands when she catches sight of Mikasa’s hand entirely slick with her arousal. Her face burns with the telltale embarrassment even as she knows there’s nothing to be embarrassed about, that this is the proof of her feelings, and thankfully, Mikasa doesn’t tease her for it. Mikasa just stares at the wetness coating her hand for long moments, long enough for Annie to be concerned at what is going through Mikasa’s mind, if Mikasa finds it off-putting, before Mikasa turns to her again, locking gazes for the briefest moments before it shifts lower, to her mouth.

It is all the indication she needs to figure out what Mikasa is thinking of, and it shifts the burn in her face someplace lower too. She doesn’t hesitate when Mikasa extends her arm, grasping onto Mikasa’s wrist with both her hands and immediately drawing Mikasa’s fingers into her mouth. The taste of herself on Mikasa’s skin, the noise that Mikasa makes as her tongue slides between fingers, is once again fireworks on her tongue and music to her ears. She laps at Mikasa’s digits, at her palm, behind it, even down to her wrist, cleaning up Mikasa’s hand of her arousal with the same amount of attention as she did the chocolate smudges. And she doesn’t stop there. When she can no longer taste anything but Mikasa’s skin, she halts, swallows, and then slowly slips Mikasa’s two fingers back into her mouth, looking right into Mikasa’s dark grays as she does so.

She doesn’t know why she’s continuing this, only that she has Mikasa’s fingers in her mouth, and she doesn’t want to let go. To these fingers she does what she wants to do to Mikasa elsewhere but can’t. She imagines kissing Mikasa, and she drags her lips all across the fingers, rolling her tongue all around, up and down, gently biting. She imagines eating Mikasa out, and she pushes her tongue in between, flicking the tip repeatedly, gently sucking. It isn’t until Mikasa’s face has gone red and she’s gritting her jaw in an obvious attempt to contain her own arousal that Annie stops, planting a lingering kiss on Mikasa’s palm before reluctantly letting go of the hand.

“You know I want to reciprocate, right?” she reiterates.

Mikasa blinks, seemingly at a loss at what to do with her returned hand, now wet with saliva. But despite that, she doesn’t ponder for long, focusing her attention back at Annie as her expression takes on something that resembles affection. “I know. Thanks for not pushing it.” And then Mikasa wraps her arms around Annie’s waist and leans up to press a kiss to her temple, a long, lingering kiss just like the one Annie gives to her palm.

She wants to ask what it means. If this is acknowledgement and compensation, _I know how you feel, and I don’t feel the same, so have this instead_ , or understanding and reciprocation, _I feel the same, and this is proof of it without breaking our boundaries_ , or if this is simply compassion and kindness, _you look miserable, so have this and cheer up._ She knows which one she wants it to be. But what it actually is for Mikasa, there are no answers in the touch of lips to her temple, or in Mikasa’s visage as she pulls away, or in the small smile Mikasa flashes, or in the wrap of Mikasa’s arms around her waist. If she is the take a guess, it feels like compassion and kindness, and that’s depressing.

“How are you feeling?” Mikasa asks.

But in the absence of an answer, she’s free to fill in the blanks. She crosses out what she wants it to be, and also what she doesn’t want it to be, and that leaves the in between. Acknowledgement and compensation is fine. It’s good enough. “Like I’m floating.”

Mikasa lets out a little chuckle. “Rest for a bit then. I have to get back to cleaning up the kitchen. And we can have the chocolate strawberries later.”

“Right,” she nods. “Thanks for getting me off.”

The small smile turns into an almost cheeky smirk, but Mikasa says nothing else as she leaves her on the bed and exits the room. She watches Mikasa go, and sighs once Mikasa disappears from view. Flopping down onto the mattress, she buries her head into Mikasa’s pillow, breathing in the scent of Mikasa. Her temple tingles where Mikasa’s lips touched and she licks at her own lips, remembering the taste of Mikasa’s skin and the fluster of Mikasa’s cheeks as she mouths Mikasa’s name. This feelings thing is really, really hard.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was thinking of having a bit of fun at the end of this chapter as a way to get to know what you readers think of the story so far, and also as a chance for me to give back to you all. So if any of you are so inclined, please do answer the two multiple choice questions below (reasons for answers optional) and if you get both questions right, you can send me a prompt and I'll write something for you as a reward. 
> 
> Question 1: Which of these do you think is true about Mikasa? Is she  
> A) Acknowledging and compensating  
> B) Understanding and reciprocating  
> C) Kind and compassionate
> 
> Question 2: There are 3 untouchable/immovable boundaries in Mikasa and Annie's relationship. Obviously, that has to go for them to have any chance of a proper relationship. Which do you think will go first?  
> A) Kissing  
> B) Reciprocating  
> C) Saying names
> 
> Question 3 (Bonus): Is there such a thing as too much chocolate?
> 
> (QUIZ DONE & CLOSED but I'm leaving the questions here to give context to all the ABC's in the comments)


	13. water is my eye, most faithful mirror

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lengthy chapter. At 20k words, this is undoubtedly the longest chapter yet. So this a treat for you all. The reason it turned out this long is really because I was pretty adamant on where this chapter had to start, and more importantly where it had to end. And also because I'm super indulgent. So this chapter has a little bit of everything. Angst, fluff, awkward romance, heartwarming stuff, food porn, actual porn, and more actual porn. Admittedly, the smut didn't have to be as long as it is, but this is me at my most indulgent. Please indulge me. 
> 
> \--
> 
> Chapter title taken from Teardrop by Massive Attack.

This feelings thing is really, really hard.

It’s bad enough that she’s constantly reading into Mikasa’s every action and every word, but an old problem she thought is done and settled, resurfaces with a vengeance. The staring. She tries not to, especially when they are others around them, but there is always that longing to look at Mikasa, to have Mikasa notice that she’s looking. She doesn’t even know why she wants that. It isn’t like Mikasa noticing all her stares would magically change how Mikasa feels, that she would find it flattering. If anything, it might be annoying instead. And the more she does is, the likelier it is that someone will eventually notice. She’s not about to let her feelings get Mikasa into trouble.

“Are you staying over tonight?”

Eren asks this as she’s sitting on his couch after a Sunday dinner. Sometimes she does, but today she’s tired, having looked through the applications of new gym members and sorting them into their appropriate skill tier for her first newbie class tomorrow. It would be far less taxing for her to simply spar all of them and assess them that way than have to read through often times inflated descriptions of personal skill, but she needs to abide to at least some of her work place rules.

“I’m tired,” she says, shaking her head. “It’s really cold nowadays too. I don’t exactly want to brave the morning chill to go home tomorrow before going to work.”

“Well, why not we go to your place then? I’ll accompany you home. Then you can sleep in.”

“Then you have to brave the cold.”

“That’s fine, I’m okay with that.”

“Eren, I’m tired.”

“Oh. Okay.”

She frowns at his dejected expression. He’s not usually so insistent. But as she thinks about it, she realizes that it has been quite a while since they’ve had sex. It simply doesn’t feel that long to her because she has another option. A heavy, bitter feeling rises to the back of her throat. Perhaps she could just do it anyway, but she suspects even he won’t enjoy it now that she’s said no twice. “Eren, I’m sorry. I’m just really tired. Next time, I promise.”

He nods from where he’s standing at the edge of the couch, before finally taking a seat. Disturbingly, she notes that he doesn’t take the seat beside her, but instead takes the adjacent seat. He doesn’t even look at her. “Annie...are we okay?”

“What do you mean?”

He shrugs. “I just feel like we haven’t been spending much time together lately.”

“I told you that it gets really busy at the gym at the start of the year.”

“Yeah but, I don’t know, it just feels like something’s off. Even when we are together,” he elaborates as he gestures with his hands at ‘something’. Then he looks at her suddenly. “Are you still mad at me? About that thing with Mikasa?”

She feels a slight spike of panic at the mention of Mikasa’s name, that it takes her a second to figure out what ‘that thing with Mikasa’ is. “No, I’m not mad at you.”

“I apologized to her.”

“That’s...great. I’m sure she was happy abo—”

“That’s not it,” he cuts her off, scowling at her reaction. “You’re mad about something else.”

“I’m not mad.”

“You are! Something’s been strange about you since around Christmas, but I can’t figure out anything that has happened other than this so I don—”

“Eren!”

His shoulders jump at her raised voice and it startles him into silence. But as she looks into his wide eyes, the rest of her words die in her throat. Anything she says now will be a lie. We’re fine is a lie, I’m not mad is a lie. Because she is mad, and since Christmas, yes, because he basically climbed the tallest tree and proclaimed to everyone that she’s his girlfriend with such confidence and joy so the moment that becomes untrue, he’ll have made a fool of himself. And if Mikasa’s involvement ever comes to light, every whisper will be a cut to his pride. And because she now has feelings for Mikasa, they’re not fine. They’re absolutely not fine.

She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Eren, I’m sorry, but I’m really tired today. Let’s talk about this some other time. All right?”

Unable to tell the truth, and unwilling to tell a lie, deflecting is all she can do. He lets her go, apologizing profusely about forcing the subject even after she’s repeatedly said she’s tired. He apologizes for not having a car to send her home, and he even offers to ask Mikasa for a lift, maybe Mikasa might still be nearby. She declines. She just wants to leave. He lets her go, but she notes that his goodnight kiss is not the peck it usually is. His arms wrap tight around her waist and his kiss is almost demanding in its intensity. It’s the first time since starting things with Mikasa that his kiss leaves a bad taste in her mouth.

It’s unsettling, but she puts it from her mind when she reads the time of her phone once she’s out of the building. Quickly, she surveys the cars parked along the roadside. But upon not finding what she’s looking for, she jogs all the way to the corner of the block and there she finally does find it. Relieved, she walks right up to the car and opens the front passenger door, eager to get out of the cold.

Mikasa raises her head from whatever she’s reading on her phone. “I thought you might stay the night.”

She shakes her head, slipping in and closing the door. “I’m tired.”

It’s an unspoken thing they’ve developed. Every Sunday, when Mikasa inevitably leaves first after dinner, she waits half an hour in her car. If Annie too comes out within that time frame, Mikasa will give her a lift home. If not, then the assumption is that Annie is staying the night, and Mikasa will head home. She just barely made it in time. Mikasa starts the car and pulls out of the lot and she finds, as they go along, that her gaze is once again drawn to Mikasa. Although now, it is accompanied by a certain bitter taste on her tongue.

“Can I put my feet up on your seat?”

“I’m fairly certain that that is not the proper way to sit in a car,” Mikasa replies, keeping her eyes on the road.

She doesn’t bother rolling hers, knowing Mikasa won’t see it. “Always a stickler for rules. Can I or can I not?”

“Take off your shoes.”

She does, and immediately pulls her legs up to hug them to her chest. Then she rests her head on her knees, angling herself to look out the window instead of Mikasa, but she can still see her from the reflection in the glass. She sighs. “I’m being a shit to your brother.”

The pattern of light changes as the car makes a turn, and Mikasa’s reflection disappears for a moment. She can’t see how, or if, Mikasa has any reaction to that.

“That you’re aware of that is a consolation I guess,” Mikasa says, her tone not giving away anything. “Strive not to be a shit then.”

She snorts, smiling disparagingly at her own reflection. “That’s how it always is for you. Don’t stare. Don’t think. Don’t be a shit.”

“Maybe it’s because I can do it. It’s not advice for everyone.”

It makes her wonder if one of the things Mikasa tells herself not to do, is not to feel anything for her. She frowns then, realizing she’s doing it again. “I don’t want to be less of a shit to him by being more of a shit to you.”

“I’d rather you not be a shit to him at all and be as much of a shit as you want to me.”

Mikasa’s reply comes quick, almost defensive, and she hates it. She really wishes she could stop reading too much into Mikasa. Because while everything Mikasa does or say that lines up with the possibility that Mikasa feels for her too makes her giddy, likewise everything that doesn’t is unpleasantly sobering. She decides to keep things light instead of pointing out that Mikasa isn’t practicing what she preaches either. “It’s hard to not be a shit to him sometimes.”

It works, and Mikasa softens. “I don’t disagree with that.”

Soon, they arrive at her place and while she doesn’t sense any tension from their lapse into silence since Mikasa’s not-disagreement, there’s no harm in smoothing things out to make sure she hasn’t stirred anything. She pulls her shoes back on as Mikasa stops at the side.

“Come up for a bit.”

Mikasa raises an eyebrow. “You said you’re tired.”

“Yes. I’m so sleepy,” she affirms, putting on her best sleepy face. “Come tuck me in?”

“Seriously? You want me to go up to your place just to tuck you in?”

She nods. “Then you can let yourself back out with that amazing key I gave you.”

“The sexy back key?”

“Uh-hmm.”

“More like sleepy baby right now.”

She smiles. “It’s why I love your mothering.”

Mikasa sighs, but caps it off with a smile of her own. “All right, come on then. Let’s get you into bed.”

As she lies in bed later, listening to satisfying sound of Mikasa locking the door from under the warmth of her quilt with the strains of a lullaby fresh in mind, she thinks of how right now SB isn’t sexy back, or sleepy baby, or even short blonde. It’s selfish bitch. Because the situation has come to the point where she’s hurting Eren with her lack of care, where even he is sensing her distance though he knows not what is causing it, yet she still cannot bring herself to care more about him. Every night she dreams of Mikasa, dreams of crossing all their boundaries, dreams of kissing her, of touching her, of saying her name. And every time she sees Mikasa, she gets that nagging feeling of wanting to spill the beans, to tell Mikasa how she feels just like how she once wanted to come clean to Eren about how she can’t stop thinking of Mikasa.

But she cannot do that because of the two ultimate truths. Either way she loses Mikasa. The only one she can keep is Eren, and he’s the one she doesn’t want. To keep the one she does want, she has to keep Eren. And she can’t do it half-heartedly either, because any upset with Eren will somehow find its way to Mikasa and affect their relationship too. So she does what she needs to fix things with Eren. She stays over the next two Sundays, and invites him over to her place a couple of times too. She decides not to do anything physical with Mikasa for the time being, because the satedness she gets from there is likely what is making it harder for her to want to do anything with Eren. This translates to not seeing Mikasa at all, because with Mikasa, one thing often leads to the other. It leaves her libido running high, which she thinks should be helpful, but disconcertingly, sex with Eren takes on the tone he established in the doorway. Rough and demanding.

She assumes that it’s simply because it’s been a while, but when it doesn’t ease off after the first two times, when he continues being rough and demanding, leaving marks when he usually doesn’t, it dawns on her that he’s trying to close their emotional distance with their physical one. But she also knows first hand that that’s not how it works. She tried it before and it didn’t get her anywhere. So instead she tries to assuage him even more. She makes time for him after work and she replies all his texts instantly. At one point, she even entertains him talking about the future, but only because he chose to bring it up after sex, so she knows she could always brush that off as the sex talking. She doesn’t however, bring up what she said they’d talk about some other time and he, perhaps placated by her efforts, or still feeling bad that he tried to force the topic, doesn’t either.

What he does bring up instead is Mikasa’s birthday, which makes her think that she has either successfully placated him, or he thinks she’s still angry and is trying to placate her. “Do you want to join?”

“Me? You just said it’s a private dinner thing with you and Armin.”

“Not just me and Armin, but family. And since she gave you those gingerbread cookies, it means she sees you as one too.”

She purses her lips, not quite sure how to respond because the reason Mikasa gave her those cookies is definitely not what Eren thinks it is, although Eren assuming what he does means it served its purpose. Regardless, she’s quite certain that Mikasa wouldn’t mind her joining the dinner, but she definitely doesn’t want to intrude if there’s some sort of significance of just them three that she’s not aware of. “Will she want me there?”

“I’ll ask her, of course, but if you’re okay with it then I won’t have to check back with you,” he says. “And if she says no, then Sasha and the rest will throw her another party later, for friends. You can join them instead.”

She grimaces. While it’s true that she has met ‘the rest’, it was one meeting, and that’s hardly enough that she’d find it comfortable to hang out with them, Mikasa’s birthday or no. “Nah, if Mikasa says no I guess I’ll just skip it. Send her my regards.”

He smiles nervously. “I’m sure she’ll say yes.”

She’s sure Mikasa will say yes too. And sure enough, the answer that comes back to her is yes. And since it’s Mikasa’s birthday, Mikasa is exempt from dinner preparations. Armin, being the only other one of the three who can cook, brings all the food, while Eren brings the drinks, usually wine. Sometimes a couple of stronger stuff too to make party cocktails. That leaves her at a loss as to what she should contribute, now that’s she’s been invited. Eren suggests desserts, or a birthday cake which they don’t typically have because anything Mikasa bakes is better than store bought. So she considers another fruit basket but that’s probably laying it on too thick. And if Eren recognizes those fruits as the same ones in the pictures Mikasa sent during their trip, he might even think she’s picking a fight. Or he may talk about it to Armin and Armin might figure out something’s up.

So in the end, she trashes the fruit basket idea and goes for the cake. While she’s at it, she gets some fancy chocolates too as a cover present because it’s generic and it won’t raise questions. But as for the present she actually wants to give Mikasa, a problem arises because it is one that she cannot give while in Eren and Armin’s presence yet if she doesn’t give it on the day itself, she feels like it’ll lose some of its meaning. And that’s why she finds herself making an unannounced trip to Mikasa’s place the afternoon of the dinner, sneaking around the side of the house, and hiding the object she brought along in some of the bushes. It’s so silly, and potentially so embarrassing if Mikasa catches her skulking around, but the giddiness she feels as she’s making her way back to the bus stop, the anticipation Mikasa’s reaction as she presents the gift later, makes the silliness worth it.

When evening rolls around, she’s back at the house again with Eren in one hand and the birthday cake in the other. Mikasa accepts both the cake and the chocolate graciously, and as there are no strange looks or whispered words, she concludes that her earlier sneaking and the object she hid has not been discovered. The dinner itself is pleasant but plain, and if not for the birthday greetings at the door, and the cake awaiting its appearance in the refrigerator, she would not have figured there is anything special at all about this day. Even when the cake finally comes out, there are no candles or birthday songs. They just treat it as another food item.

So she simply behaves how she usually does on their Sunday dinners as they eat, drink, and small talk the hours away. They do play board games though, with Armin absolutely dominating in monopoly, while Mikasa floors everyone in scrabble. And then during chess, Mikasa and Armin once again go head to head after beating Eren and herself respectively prior. By this time Eren is already tipsy from the drinks, having drunk Armin’s portion because Armin is driving, that to her chagrin, he starts to get a little frisky with her while waiting for the chess game to end. She allows little kisses, but when his hands start to discreetly wander she fends him off. 

Soon enough, the night wraps up and Armin offers a ride to both her and Eren. It would be strange not to accept, with the hour being as late as it is, and with the weather being as cold at it is. And she has no reason to want to stay a little longer in the house of someone she supposedly doesn’t get along with all that well. So she accepts a ride only until the subway station, citing that she lives in the opposite direction from both Armin and Eren. It helps that Eren has fallen asleep during the short drive from Mikasa’s house to the station, and she unabashedly emphasizes the need to get him home quick. In the face of that, Armin puts up only a token insistence before dropping her off as she requests. She waits until she can no longer see his SUV, and then another few minutes for good measure, before she makes a beeline to the buses.

She arrives back at Mikasa’s house for the third time that day around half past ten. It isn’t late by any means, but it also isn’t out of the realm of possibility that Mikasa might turn in early today. Maybe because of the wine, or maybe because of the long day she’ll have tomorrow celebrating her birthday with the rest of her friends. Annie quickly grabs the item she stashed and hopes for the best as she goes for the doorbell.

The lights in the living room still on, and Mikasa still wearing the same turtleneck and long skirt as before, is a relief. Mikasa’s expression however, is one of complete bewilderment as she looks at her, and it only becomes increasingly confounded as her gaze sweeps across her front porch. “Annie? Did Armin leave you behind?”

Annie chuckles at Mikasa’s conclusion. It has to be at least half an hour since Armin left. If she truly has been left behind he’d probably have noticed before now. “No, silly. I’m here with your birthday present.”

The confusion grows. “You gave me chocolates.”

“Yes,” she agrees. “That’s the cover present. This is the real one.”

Mikasa’s mouth opens in realization and then her gaze finally moves to the object she’s hauling over her shoulders. “A guitar?”

She wonders if it’s the wine that’s making Mikasa so slow, or if she’s really that taken aback by her presence. “No. The guitar’s mine.”

“Okay, so you’re here with my real birthday present, and it’s not your guitar. But I don’t see you carrying anything else...” Mikasa folds her arms as her expression turns contemplative. “So is my present you?”

At this point she can’t tell if Mikasa is being too logical and unintentionally daft, or if she’s being totally deliberate and definitely teasing. But regardless it makes her heart pound, and it’s a set up too good to pass. “Do you want me?”

“Depends,” Mikasa smirks, proving herself to be the latter. “Do you come with your guitar?”

And of course she’s not going to get a straight answer to that. “You’re enjoying being asinine.”

“I am, yes. Now come in, it’s freezing outside.”

“Thanks for finally realizing,” she comments off-handedly as she enters, heading straight into the living room and putting down her guitar case. She’s going to need to re-tune it now that it’s been out in the cold.

Mikasa follows after her, silently taking a seat on the couch as she watches. “So what exactly is my birthday present?”

She takes out her guitar once she’s seated down on the opposing armchair next to the fake fireplace, immediately plucking at the strings and tuning it accordingly. “You said during Christmas that you liked listening to me play,” she shrugs, glancing at Mikasa. “So. Thought I’ll play you a song.”

“I do like it,” Mikasa confirms, smiling brightly. “Are you going to sing too? You didn’t during Christmas.”

“Just this once,” she answers, keeping her gaze down on the strings. “Because it’s your birthday present. Don’t you dare laugh.”

She immediately hears a chuckling laugh that Mikasa cuts short with a clearing of the throat. “I won’t. I promise.”

She raises her eyes then, meeting Mikasa’s eager ones, and she strums a note, taking a deep breath. It wouldn’t actually matter even if Mikasa does laugh. It would simply mean that Mikasa finds it entertaining and that’s half the point of this performance in the first place. It’s already silly enough that she hid her guitar outside, which thankfully, Mikasa hasn’t asked about because that is definitely going to elicit a laugh. So she strums again, and starts to sing.

For starters, she sings the Happy Birthday song. Just as it is, nothing special, nothing changed, nothing added besides Mikasa’s name in the third line. And then as the song ends, she takes another deep breath, and goes again.

 

_It was on a spring day_

_in the pouring spring rain_

_we met in your impeccably clean black car_

_and we shared just two words_

 

_I really hated your guts_

_you pissed me off so much_

_you should know that your poker face is not charming_

_but that goes for me too_

 

She chances a glance at Mikasa, seeing her eyes wide with wonder and a hand over a mouth obviously suppressing her laughter. It makes Annie red in the face, but she’s not about to stop prematurely. “Don’t you dare,” she reminds.

 

_I wanted to fight you_

_you knocked me off my feet_

_my first defeat in a very very very long time_

_and I grew to respect you_

 

_You’re a hardass outside_

_but a softie inside_

_you’re so amazing and so beautiful_

_I’m so glad I met you_

 

_Happy birthday to you_

_I hope you liked your gift_

_this is so embarrassing and if you ever tell anyone that I did this_

_I’m so gonna kick your ass_

 

“And that’s it,” she says, dropping her head to hide her still flaming face. “There was more, but it all gets pretty explicit, so I cut them out.”

Mikasa’s shoulders start to shake and she falls over onto her side on the couch but as she promised, not a sound escapes her mouth. But while Mikasa is distractedly keeping herself together, Annie takes the opportunity to get up and stash her guitar back into its case. She had planned to allow Mikasa to request a song or two, but from the looks of things it doesn’t seem as though Mikasa is in the state to take up her offer. And really, that mortifying performance is quite enough. That she managed to give Mikasa a laugh at her expense is good enough. She closes her guitar case close with as much dignity as she can muster.

“You’re not a very good lyricist,” comes Mikasa’s muffled comment.

“Fuck off,” she retorts without any heat, hauling her guitar case over her shoulder. “I tried.”

Mikasa promptly gets up, probably due to the threat of her leaving, swallowing the rest of her mirth as she crosses over towards her while smiling soothingly. “I know. You made up for that with your singing anyway, which was really nice. Thank you. I liked the song. It felt very personal.”

But it’s not as personal as she wanted it to be. She had to be careful about including anything that would allude to Eren being their chain link too strongly, and also anything that had to do with the depth of her feelings. Both would turn the song from something Mikasa could laugh at, into something more of a burden. An unsavoury reminder of their messed up situation. But the burden is hers. There is no need to pull Mikasa down into the same hole she’s in.

“Makes me wish you left in those explicit verses,” Mikasa adds with a slight teasing lilt, unaware of her inner thoughts.

Annie turns towards Mikasa, suddenly aware that Mikasa is standing close to her, way closer than necessary even taking into account that Mikasa is trying to be soothing. And as she eyes the small distance between them, she lightly bites the inside of her cheeks. Is it really her who is reading too much into Mikasa? Are all the ‘signs’ she’s seeing really her wishful thinking? Or is she reading all she sees because Mikasa herself consistently behaves in ways that encourages her thoughts? Does Mikasa even know what she’s doing, or is this all just unconscious? She doesn’t know, and because of that, she cannot know what is the right way to respond. Whether Mikasa wants her to respond, or wants her to reject it. The only thing that is for certain at this moment is the teasing lilt in Mikasa’s voice. And that is easy to respond to.

She zeroes their distance by taking a step forward, softly bumping her body against Mikasa’s suggestively. “I don’t have to sing those to you. I could just show you.”

Mikasa instantly picks up her meaning, raising a single eyebrow as her smile turns amused. “That wouldn’t be a present anymore would it? Not with the effort I have to put in.”

It crosses her mind then to persuade Mikasa to let her reciprocate again. It would be the perfect counter to Mikasa’s needing to put in effort, and it would not be strange to offer it as an extension of Mikasa’s present. But it wasn’t too long ago that Mikasa had told her clearly that while she appreciates the intent, she still doesn’t want it. To bring it up again now would be pushy on her part and she doesn’t want to press Mikasa into accepting something she might regret later. Mikasa has a strong will, but it isn’t infallible. Maybe one day Mikasa will want it, but for now, they can just carry on as they usually do.

Placing her guitar case back down on the floor with one hand, she places the other lightly on Mikasa’s stomach. Then without warning, she pushes Mikasa down to the couch. “No effort needed. You said you like to watch me, right? I’ll do all the work. You just sit there and watch me.”

She throws that out like a challenge, an insinuation, a promise. And it works. Something lights up deep inside Mikasa’s widened eyes, something dark, and it clouds over the clear steeliness. Desire. It makes her heart rate spike, more so when Mikasa reaches out with both hands, grasping at either sides of her hooded jacket, and yanks her forward none too gently. She lets herself be pulled onto Mikasa’s lap, bracing her arms on the couch on either side of Mikasa’s head. The sudden proximity is intoxicating. Mikasa’s intense stare, the hands on her jacket still tugging her closer, their shared breathing space. But she doesn’t balk and she meets it head on. Returns the stare. Locks her elbow. Exhales right onto Mikasa’s mouth. It’s been too long since they’ve last done this and her body is thrumming already.

Mikasa leans her head back slightly, lips curling into a smirk. “Which is your favourite strap-on?”

She almost doesn’t hear the softly drawled question over the pounding in her head. “Strap-on?”

“Which of my strap-ons is your favourite?” Mikasa repeats, her hands sliding down to rest on Annie’s rear, where they give it a hard squeeze.

Annie sucks in a breath as it finally clicks for her that Mikasa is asking because she wants to use them. And she instantly shivers in anticipation because they haven’t used any toys in a while. Certainly, their sex as of late doesn’t even remove enough clothes to allow the use of a strap-on. And while she does like the level of intimacy that their lack of nudity strangely fosters, she also cannot deny liking more direct skin to skin contact. The thought of the toy now, the implication of the thorough fucking that comes with it, makes her all the more wanting.

“The one with the ridges,” Annie breathes, already undulating her hips in time with Mikasa’s squeezing.

Mikasa’s smirk widens at her answer. “Okay. I’ll go put it on. In the meantime,” Mikasa says, leaning up to whisper the rest right into Annie’s ear, “I want you to take off all of your clothes except your jacket,” and here Mikasa’s hands travel back up to tug at the article for emphasis, “zip it up, put on the hood, and then wait for me here, in the living room. Understand?”

Mikasa is being commanding again, the sort of commanding that leaves absolutely no room for questions. And it leaves her throbbing with liquid need. She nods briskly. “Yes.”

At her acknowledgement Mikasa slides her off her lap and gets up, saying nothing else as she makes for the bedroom. There is only one over the shoulder glance before Mikasa disappears behind the wall. And then she is alone with nothing but her blood rushing excitement and the sounds emanating from the bedroom of drawers being pulled open, of _preparations_ being made. It almost makes her forget that she has her share of preparations too, and she hastily slips off her jacket, and then her sweater underneath it. But when she grasps the hem of her t-shirt she pauses, the brightness and openness of the living room finally getting to her.

Mikasa made it clear that they’re going to do it here, and it’s not like they haven’t done it outside the bedroom before. At least she’s not likely to be uncomfortably pressed onto the floor again, in broad daylight with curtains open and all that. But the lights in the ceiling are just as glaring if not more, than actual daylight, and Mikasa’s place being twice the size of hers just makes the living room so wide and open. She swallows and pulls off her t-shirt anyway, more sounds from the bedroom reminding her that Mikasa will come out at some point, and if she’s still in the midst of stripping then, she’s likely going to have to explain why she’s hesitating.

Maybe that’s the issue. She isn’t certain why she’s hesitating. Is it really the location? Some irrational fear that someone might see even though the curtains are drawn, the door is locked, and no one ever comes over without Mikasa’s knowledge? Or is it because Mikasa is going to be watching again, this time with her less clothed than the times before, and fully exposed under the garish lights? Even thinking it she realizes how incredibly stupid both thoughts are. Location makes no difference, and Mikasa has seen everything there is to see, and touched everything there is to touch. Just because she’s now aware of her feelings for Mikasa doesn’t change the extent of how much they’ve already been physical with each other. There is nothing to hide.

But that knowledge doesn’t stop her from first pulling her jacket back on and zipping it up after discarding her bra, before she removes the rest of her clothes. Then she places them all in a neat pile on the armchair, and just as she’s about to take a seat herself to wait, everything goes dark. She startles, instantly whirling around as the hairs on the back of her neck jumps up in attention. But there is only Mikasa, standing in the hallway, her finger on the light switches.

“Sorry, I startled you.”

There is nothing to deny or add to that, so she gives a small nod as she relaxes. “Yeah.”

Mikasa quickly sashays her way over to Annie, lightly wrapping her arms around her waist. It instantly quiets her nerves and turns the goosebumps on her neck and shoulders from panic to warmth. The ease in which Mikasa holds her, like it’s a given, spawns hundreds of butterflies in her stomach.

“I thought it would make for a better atmosphere. Would you prefer them back on?” Mikasa asks.

Indeed without the harsh white ceiling lights, the only source of illumination now coming from the fake fireplace casting a dim orange glow to the entire room, the atmosphere is much improved. She curls her fingers into Mikasa’s turtleneck, pressing close as she shakes her head. “It’s nice like this.”

Mikasa smiles, tugging her forward as she begins to backward walk to the couch, and when Mikasa sits Annie gets on her lap just like before. The hands on her waist then slides lower, past her naked rear, raising tremors along her naked thighs, settling finally on her naked knees, and all that while, Mikasa’s eyes never strays from hers. It rushes the air from her lungs, and all she wants to do is lean in and make out without a care for the world in this warm fiery glow, accompanied by the occasional sound of crackling wood, wrapped tight within Mikasa’s arms as she swallows up every last one of Mikasa’s breaths and gasps and moans.

She cannot resist the initial urge, and she surges forward to brush her lips against the arch of Mikasa’s cheekbone. Mikasa allows this, even responding in kind with a kiss to her jawline, and that’s when Annie pulls away and takes a deep breath before the temptation to do more becomes too unbearable to resist. Instead she looks down at where Mikasa has replaced her skirt with sweatpants, and the very obvious bulge within them. She releases Mikasa’s turtleneck and reaches for the waistband of the pants, pulling it down to let the toy spring free. The heat between her legs intensifies, threatening to make itself known.

“I’m going to ruin your pants.”

“I can wash it,” Mikasa says dismissively.

So she pulls the pants down only as much as needed for it not to impede the toy, and she leaves it be as she wraps her hand around the toy’s shaft. She finds it already slick with a thin layer of lubricant just as the scent of pomegranates reaches her nose. “Do you want me to ride this then?”

“You can do whatever you want,” Mikasa replies. “You’re doing all the work after all. I’m just here to watch.”

She glances up at that, seeing Mikasa’s seriousness about simply watching. But even if Mikasa says that she’s free to do whatever, what else can she possibly do with a strap-on but ride it? Especially if Mikasa is content to remain in this position. So she drops her gaze again as she inches forward towards the toy, and then she encounters a problem. Mikasa is sitting so deeply on the couch that she can’t get close enough before her knees hits the back cushion.

It’s an awkward problem. “Um, you’re going to have to sit out a little.”

But to her surprise Mikasa shakes her head, grinning impishly. “You can do whatever you want,” Mikasa repeats, “but I’m going to sit right here. And watch you.”

It is never not infuriating when Mikasa does this, and her embarrassment from having to figure out a way to make it work with Mikasa’s conditions just makes it worse. She looks down and sighs. “I hate it when you do this, you know that right?”

“Time to change the lyrics of your song then?” Mikasa replies, taking her criticism in a stride. “Past tense to present tense? _I really hate your guts, you piss me off so much?_ ”

Annie can’t stifle her laughter at the ridiculous lyrics sang back at her. “Wow. I really am an awful lyricist.”

“Was one of the explicit verses going to mention how much of a massive tease I am?”

“You know it,” Annie confirms. “That, and your ever multiplying strap-on collection.”

This time Mikasa is the one who laughs as she rebuts. “I only have four.”

“Still a bit much for something that you have no use for other than with me, don’t you think?”

“Touché,” Mikasa concedes, and then she brings her hands up from Annie’s knees to tenderly cradle Annie’s neck, tipping her chin up. “Hey, have my teasing ever not been worth it?”

She instinctively wants to call out the ego stroke but that is beside the point here and really, she lost that right when she did it herself, calling Mikasa phenomenal. “No.”

Mikasa smiles, leaning in as she regards her very seriously. “Do you want me to sit out a little?”

Then Annie remembers the soft hold on her hip, the loosening grip on her wrists, and as she stares back into Mikasa’s eyes, she squares her shoulders and determines. Spreading her knees wider, she brings herself closer to Mikasa, shimmying in until she can touch her centre to the base of the dildo. She can’t get close enough to ride the toy, but she can rub her clit along the shaft and she tentatively tests it, raising her hips to drag herself up the shaft, and then lowering her hips to drag down. She bites her lower lip at the sensations, glad now that she chose the dildo with the ridges although maybe, maybe, Mikasa is being a little shit _because_ she chose this one. Whatever the case, she repeats the motion a couple more times, finds it sufficient, then she braces her arms on the cushion as she finally answers Mikasa.

“No, you can stay right where you are, and just watch.”

Mikasa leans back, her smile growing a tad, and she drops her hands loosely to her sides. “Go on then.”

She inhales deeply, grips the back of the couch for support, and then she moves. Properly this time, more forceful compared to her testing movements from before, and it is a world of difference. She can feel every ridge, every knob, as they rub against her clit in every which way, as the slickness of the dildo eases her every drag into a smooth glide that just multiplies the pleasurable assault on her senses. Shivers runs down her spine as she exhales, and she earnestly works herself faster on the underside of the shaft. She underestimates how good this would feel, how riding probably wouldn’t feel half as nice. A dildo isn’t like fingers, it cannot move independently, bend and curl and press into all the right places. It wouldn’t get her anywhere as fast as this is currently, and she can already feel the beginnings of that gratifying pressure. Maybe Mikasa isn’t being a complete shit after all.

“Unzip your jacket.”

No, no, Mikasa _is_ being a complete and utter shit. Her pace falters, but she catches herself before she stops. She settles for slower, longer strokes, as she shifts her attention to Mikasa. She doesn’t ask Mikasa to repeat, because she heard the directive loud and clear, and she doesn’t ask why because that’s obvious. Mikasa is still watching just her face instead of her body, and so she quickly reaches up to her zipper and pulls it down before any hesitation shows. Mikasa just implicitly asked for her trust previously, and she gave it. There is nothing to hide. But when her jacket falls open and Mikasa’s gaze follows, she diverts hers elsewhere, focusing only on her motions as a familiar heat spreads in her belly and in her cheeks.

Mikasa is apparently determined not to leave her to it, however. “Touch yourself.”

Now her pace does stop, momentarily, as she frowns in confusion. “What?” How does she even do that when she’s already rubbing herself against the dildo?

“Not there,” Mikasa explains, seeing her confusion. Her hands come up from where they’re resting on the couch to clutch each side of Annie’s jacket, pulling them open further and exposing the rest of her. “Touch yourself here.”

Mikasa is staring brazenly at her breasts, and she feels her nipples harden almost painfully under the scrutiny. It makes her mouth go dry when Mikasa’s eyes flicks up to hers suddenly, all the indication she needs that Mikasa saw it too, saw the effect she has on her, and her face burns all the hotter. Has she ever touched herself while someone else is touching her? Yes, of course. Has it ever been because she was asked to touch herself by the person touching her? Yes to that too. Has she ever been asked to touch herself while the other person just watches? No, that is a definite no. The prospect is scary, and the nervous churning in her gut reflects that. But it feels like she can’t refuse either, not when she told Mikasa repeatedly to just sit there and watch while she does all the work. She swallows with difficulty, looking down at herself as her hands jerkily reaches up over her breasts, just about to cup them when—

Fingers wrap around her wrists, and then she pulled into a warm and firm embrace. “I’m sorry,” Mikasa murmurs into her collarbone as hands run up and down her back soothingly. “I’m sorry. I’m being really terrible, aren’t I?”

All her tension bleeds out, and she is suffused with an indignant relief. She returns the embrace tightly, bending down to sharply bite Mikasa’s ear. “You absolutely are. I’m gonna forgive you cause it’s your birthday. But you’re insufferable.”

“I know,” Mikasa agrees, laying apologetic kisses along her clavicle and up along her neck. “I’m sorry. I’m feeling extra mean today.”

“Why?”

Mikasa makes to extricate herself from the embrace and Annie reluctantly loosens her hold, just enough so that they can look each other in the face. But what she sees makes every part of her tingle. There’s a deep flush on Mikasa’s cheeks, her eyes are dark with desire, and the fingers on her back are pressing into her skin. “I can’t sit here and just watch. I want to touch you.”

The very words has her soaking Mikasa’s pants, has her indignation replaced with a burst of passion, of need, of affection. She pulls Mikasa close once again, gives her ear another bite, but gentler. “You idiot. You can always touch me.”

Something shifts after her proclamation, and an air of urgency takes over. Mikasa closes her mouth over her flesh, sucks a mark onto her neck, and Annie whimpers as she starts up her pace again, now tinged with that acute hunger. She feels Mikasa moving, hands on her hips keeping her steady as Mikasa shifts forward, lessening the strain on her thighs and actually sitting out on the seat now so she could ride the strap-on if she wants. But there is no need to, and the way she’s doing it feels way better, so she only readjusts her knees for a better angle and rubs herself harder on the shaft.

Mikasa releases her neck as her hands move from her hips to her front. “Tell me when you’re close.”

But her answer is a strangled gasp when Mikasa lightly cups her breasts, and her every bob on the toy has her hardened peaks grazing against Mikasa’s palms. The sensation shoots straight between her legs and almost crumples her over. “Oh my god fuck—”

“Tell me,” Mikasa repeats, insistent. “Okay?”

She makes some noise of assent as she nods vigorously, the overwhelming stimulation on her breasts short-circuiting her ability to form words. She grasps Mikasa’s hands, pressing them into her flesh more firmly and Mikasa yields, caressing her purposefully, rolling and tweaking her stiff nipples between her fingers. It sends another wave of wetness seeping from her. She can hear it now, even through the sound of her pants and the thumps of her rear on Mikasa’s thighs, that slick noise of her arousal mixing in with the lube on the dildo. It’s somehow obscene, and it’s making the shaft so slippery that it’s becoming difficult to glide on. She concentrates harder on it, puts all her attention to her movements, and doesn’t let the pleasure sweep her away.

Mikasa’s name is on her tongue, its presence so huge she can almost taste it. She doesn’t know why it’s there, why it needs to be there, but she knows that if she lets herself go the name will spill forth like a chant. And she can’t let it, not if she wants to realize that rising pressure in the pit of her stomach.

“It’s been a while since I’ve touched you like this,” Mikasa says suddenly, murmuring the words into the base of her throat while her hands trail up and down her sides and back almost reverently. The note of longing in Mikasa’s voice, and the gentle forcefulness of her touch, has Annie’s chest aflutter with that intense giddiness as she wraps her arms around Mikasa’s shoulders. She’s been longing for Mikasa’s touch too. She’s been longing for it so much. Then Mikasa is breathing onto her skin, kissing along her sternum. “I’ve missed the way you taste.”

A rush of air is her only warning, before warm wetness envelopes her nipple. She cries out, arching her back into Mikasa’s mouth as her head clouds up with the ecstasy of that hot, slick muscle flicking, rolling and teasing her. Mikasa’s hand finds her other nipple, attending to it with the same care, pinching it in time with steady suckles—and the myriad of sensations quickly proves too much.

“I’m close.”

It’s a miracle she remembers to tell Mikasa that. Mikasa respond by dropping both her hands to her rear, encouraging the near frantic motions of her hips, and moving her mouth over to the now neglected nipple, repeating the treatment she gave the other one. At the hint of suction she feels the pressure about to burst.

“Very close!”

She’s not sure what happens after that. Or the order of them. There’s a sense that she’s being lifted, then dropped, an abrupt fullness, then pinpricks of pain, a ripple of pleasure, and then—climax. All at once, before she even understands what is going on, she is already coming. She gasps as every one of her muscles seemingly tenses and snaps repeatedly, and she holds on to Mikasa tightly as her body goes through the motions and her nerves spark and fire with exhilaration and release. Mikasa similarly holds her snug, fingers drawing patterns into her back, whispering continuous somethings into her ear, but she can’t hear it over the deafening sounds of her own rapid breaths. She can’t process anything beyond the suddenness of her orgasm. She knows she was close, but it feels like it should have been a swell that tips her over, instead of this explosive shock it turned out to be.

She swallows and takes a deeper breath to hasten her return to calm, and that’s when her bodily awareness kicks in over the haze and she notices something amiss. A slight squirm and a glance down only confirms her body’s feedback. The strap-on is inside her.

“Are you okay? Did that hurt?”

The immediate concern in Mikasa’s expression, the taut shoulders and the hands hovering over her hips seemingly at a ready to lift her off the toy if need be at a moment’s notice, paints the entire picture for her. And then unexpectedly, it is a laugh that bubbles up her throat as everything begins to make sense. She cradles Mikasa’s face, wanting to knock her head and kiss her at the same time. But she settles for pushing her forehead against Mikasa’s.

“I’m okay. Don’t worry,” she reassures first, and Mikasa’s shoulders sag with relief at her words. Hands on her hips now rest comfortably on her waist under her jacket, and Mikasa returns the push against her forehead. “Goddammit though. I think that’s the first time I’ve ever come from the very act of penetration. And it was by a damn strap-on.”

“Worn by me,” Mikasa adds cheekily, and when she chuckles Mikasa chuckles along.

“Indeed. You’re phenomenal.”

Mikasa smiles, but there is still a hint of concern in the curve of her lips. “It was good then?”

She nods, reassuring again, although the note of concern gladdens her too. “It was good. But don’t do that again.”

“So it did hurt?”

“That’s not the point,” she quickly counters before Mikasa starts to beat herself up. “I just want you to tell me when you do something like that. A little warning. I could have reacted badly when you lifted me, and then you know,” she tilts her head to gesture the toy, “that could have gone up the wrong place.”

“Ouch,” Mikasa reacts, but it is laced with a humor that Annie absolutely doesn’t share. Mikasa immediately catches on however as her brows furrow and when she speaks again the humor has tapered off into something a lot more grave. “Ouch.”

“Exactly. So you see.”

“I do. Sorry.”

“It’s fine. So long as you know now,” Annie replies, closing her eyes and simply savouring their moment of sitting together in the afterglow before Mikasa will inevitably ask her to get off of her.

It happens sooner than she expects when Mikasa pulls her head back but to her surprise the hands on her waist does the exact opposite, wrapping tighter to link fingers behind her back. The look on Mikasa’s face is one she can’t decipher. Curious, definitely. But also something else.

“So you’ve never...done anything there?” Mikasa asks.

She frowns, uncertain and apprehensive of where this is going. “There?”

“The wrong place,” Mikasa clarifies.

Annie pauses in her breath. Then she exhales. She could pretend to be oblivious about the context, and maybe Mikasa will drop it too, but somehow she has a feeling Mikasa wouldn’t. And deflecting only to have Mikasa spell it out would only make this conversation more awkward. So she clears the non-existent blockage in her throat as she looks away. “No.”

Mikasa pursues it, just like Annie thought she would. “Ever? Not even by yourself?”

She feels herself go red. “No! Look, I get that people like different things, but I just never saw my asshole in a sexual manner, okay? Why are you even asking?”

Forget Mikasa spelling it out, even calling it what it is on her own makes her burn with even more awkward embarrassment. But it still doesn’t deter Mikasa. If anything, the look on Mikasa’s face is now contemplative, and the glimmer in her dark grey eyes doesn’t bode well at all. Perhaps in acknowledgement of the strange topic however, the discomfort it’s causing, and the direction it’s going that she’s not sure she wants to go, Mikasa leans in to nuzzle her jaw soothingly. But she’s still going in that direction.

“So if I were to touch you there,” Mikasa posits, and the hands linked behind Annie’s back suddenly feels alarmingly close to ‘there’, “I would be the first, correct?”

The warmth in her face instantly spreads to her chest and when Mikasa tips her head up to look at her, when she sees the glimmer in Mikasa’s eyes and now understands it to be part shyness, part hopefulness, and part possessiveness, her heart skips a beat. Mikasa wants to touch her there, and in that instance, it hits her that _she_ wants Mikasa to touch her there too. Her pulse spikes at her newly realized desire, and it clashes violently with her apprehension of going into this uncharted territory, creating a churning ball of nerves in her gut. She doesn’t want to say no, because she wants to give Mikasa this, this first, this _only_. But at the same time she doesn’t want to say yes because how far? Is she ready? She wasn’t expecting this.

Her silence could be taken as an answer however, so she latches on to Mikasa’s turtleneck collar and needlessly pulls at it. “We really need to talk about your bad habit of springing things up on me.”

Mikasa ignores it, pressing forward. “Would I be the first?”

The violent ball in her gut grows with more want. “Yes...but I’m not su—” She is cut off by fingers on her lips and she widens her eyes at Mikasa.

Mikasa only traces her fingers along her lips, and then— “Suck.”

For lubrication. She gulps, and the ball grows further with apprehension this time. Are they really doing this? Going so far as penetration? She admits she doesn’t know much about anal because she hasn’t ever cared for it but isn’t this something to take really slowly? In stages? With a lot of preparation? The more she thinks about it the more apprehensive she feels and now the ball is pressing against her throat. It makes her almost want to hurl.

“I...really don’t—”

The fingers press against her lips. “Suck.”

Something breaks. And she hurls. Words. A lot of them. “Fuck, Mikasa! I know you learn your sex from porn and the internet but I’m actually the one experienced here! And yes, so I’ve never done shit with anal, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out you need to go slow with something that’s not meant to have things shoved inside! Porn isn’t real. Everything happens really fast in porn because it’d be boring otherwise. But this is actually scary, you know? I want to do this with you but maybe you could, I don’t know, ease me into it?” She takes a deep breath, feeling the violent energy now coursing through her veins, and she lets it out in a sigh. “Goddammit Mikasa.”

And then she freezes, very abruptly realizing what her last word was. What one of her very first was. Mikasa. And then panic joins in with her ire and desire to form a profoundly confused mix of emotions. Part of her wants to think that they’re done anyway, they’re not still having sex so she didn’t break anything. But all it takes is one glance down, or even a little wriggle, to know that they’re still connected via the sex toy that is still lodged in deep within her, and that their conversation was wholly about sex, about trying something new. So this is totally her miss. And crossing boundaries means stop.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that,” she starts, and then she figures it’s best they separate first before she says anything else but just as she rises Mikasa’s other hand on her waist holds fast, pulling her back down. She blinks rapidly in bewilderment. “What are you—?”

“Annie.”

It’s the first time in her life that her name has sounded so alien to her own ears. Because it’s not supposed to be uttered. But unlike her, Mikasa isn’t falling over herself trying to take back her words. Mikasa's gaze is unwavering and her hold is firm. And it tells her that what has been said, has been said deliberately.

“...Mikasa?”

Mikasa smiles at her tentativeness, the hand on her face now tenderly caressing her cheek. “Annie.”

Apparently something did break. The boundary. It’s broken, and they’ve now discarded it. She no longer needs to hold back saying Mikasa’s name, nor expect never to hear hers. And she didn’t think it would feel this satisfying to hear Mikasa say her name while holding her close like this. Her heart starts to pound so loudly she’s sure Mikasa can hear it, and then there’s that trilling in her chest, that fuzziness that is not unlike what she thinks happens when cats contentedly purr in the arms of their favourite humans. Are all the boundaries broken now? Or is it just this one?

She wants to test them, but maybe not now. There is something else she wants to do first. Something she wants to give. Reaching up, she takes the hand on her face, bringing its fingers to her lips as she makes eye contact with Mikasa. She gently bites the tip to make her point. “Not inside.”

Mikasa gets it immediately, her smile turning deferential as she nods. “I promise. Not inside.”

She trusts Mikasa with the rest. Taking two fingers into her mouth, she liberally coats them with her saliva. She’s not sure why, now that she knows it’s not going in, but she does it anyway, freely savouring the taste of Mikasa’s skin once again. There’s a tinge of saltiness to them that is likely her own sweat and she eagerly laps it up. When she finally pulls the two fingers out, they are glistening wet, and then they disappear from her view as Mikasa brings her hand down behind her. She feels both hands grabbing a butt cheek each, and there’s a sense that she should be afraid, but that fuzziness in her chest is so all encompassing that there is no room for apprehension. There is anticipation, yes, but it is one laced with eagerness.

She wraps herself around Mikasa, pushes her face into Mikasa’s hair as Mikasa’s fingers press into her flesh, spreads her open. She finds Mikasa’s ear, breathes into it. “Mikasa...”

Mikasa hums. “I’m here.”

Right then, she would have allowed Mikasa to do anything she wants with her. “Do it. Touch me.”

Even knowing what’s coming, the first touch still sends a shock racing up her spine as all the muscles of her back tightens. She gasps, not at all expecting it to feel so tingly.

“Okay?” Mikasa checks.

She nods. “Yeah. It’s just...strange.”

Strange is not quite the right word, but she’s not quite sure there even is another word. Not in a million years would she ever have guessed when she woke up this morning that this is what she’d end up doing right now. That she would have fingers other than her own touching her in such a private place. That she would want her private place touched in such a way. A memory comes to mind unbidden, of Reiner years ago attempting to describe to her how it feels to have one’s asshole fucked, but she had shut him down the moment he started because Bertholdt flusters beside him, and because she does not want to hear about the sex life of her childhood friends. Now she’s wishing she had, if only so she’d know what else to expect. So yes, this is strange.

Then Mikasa moves her fingers, and her breath hitches when she can feel _everything._ The slickness of her fingers, where one ends and the other begins, the slightly rough tips. Even the littlest touch is a spark up her nerves and she whimpers when her inner walls begin reacting too, squeezing hard against the dildo inside her. The duality of the sensations has her arching her back as every inch of exposed skin prickles.

“How is it?”

Her head is spinning, and she digs her fingers into Mikasa’s shoulders when Mikasa starts to circle her rim of flesh. “Pleasant...very pleasant. But...it’s not doing much.” Undoubtedly, it feels really nice as an additional source of arousal, like her breasts and nipples, or her neck and ears, but she’s going to need a lot more than that to achieve release. “How does it feel for you?”

Mikasa hums thoughtfully, planting a kiss to her neck as her fingers now explores the entire length of her ass, from the crack all the way down to the hole and even past that slightly. “Wrinkly,” she states, but then she adds “but I like it,” as she gets back to lazily circling the rim with loving attention. “Feels nice to touch.”

Annie whimpers again as the circling makes her clit twitch with need. But she pays it no mind for now as the strangeness of this that she can’t get over swamps her again. She can’t get over that she’s allowing this, she can’t get over that Mikasa wants this, that Mikasa genuinely seems to be enjoying this, that Mikasa’s touch is wholly unshy, wholly unhesitant, and that it’s making this entire act so, so intimate she’s drowning in it. It’s almost unbearable, this giddiness she feels, the intensity of it, that she needs to let it out in some way or form. She hugs Mikasa all the tighter, pressing her lips against Mikasa’s ear, jaw, the soft skin of her neck, but it’s not nearly enough.

Mikasa seems to sense it too, and she pulls her head back to look at her face. “Do you want to come?”

“Yes,” she nods. “God yes.”

But nothing prepares her for that moment when Mikasa slips her other hand from her butt to in between their bodies, and firmly massages her clit. She groans as her hips jolt from the contact. It’s excessive, the three points of stimulation now almost an assault to her senses. Mikasa isn’t teasing either, each stroke calculated to give her to most pleasure in the least amount of time, and the pressure in the pit of her stomach expands so swiftly that her limbs are shaking already. She throws her head back, panting out her moans as she rolls her hips to engage the strap-on, further escalating her bliss. There are no words for how good this feels, how completely undone she will be after this, how there is no way she can take any more than this, but Mikasa is kissing her collarbone now, her chest, the top of her breasts, and then—

“Oh fuck!”

The graze of teeth on her nipple very nearly unravels her. She sees stars in her vision, and she tangles her fingers into Mikasa’s hair, yanks it back, because there’s really only so much she can accept before it’s too much. And this is too much. It’s too much, but it’s not enough, and she has to let it out somewhere. Mikasa is staring at her, eyes slightly wide from surprise, lips slightly parted from breathing, and she doesn’t even think. She surges in, and only a final moment turn of the head has her mouth connecting with Mikasa’s jaw instead.

“What are you doing?” Mikasa exclaims, but she doesn’t recoil, only ceasing the movements of the finger on Annie’s clit.

Annie whines at the loss of stimulation, and it almost distracts her from Mikasa rejecting her kiss. Frustratedly she presses little kisses onto every bit of Mikasa her lips can reach. Cheek, jaw, neck, ear, eyebrow. She doesn’t even know what she’s doing anymore. She just needs something right now. Want something. To kiss Mikasa, most likely, to kiss her open mouthed and wet, to take Mikasa's tongue gently between her teeth, to suck it hard and make Mikasa gasp. 

“Annie...”

Mikasa probably wants her to stop, but it isn’t all that compelling when Mikasa is drawling her name out like that, and when her other hand still on her butt, hasn’t stopped its lazy circling. She shudders at the persistent tingly sensations as she nips at Mikasa’s jaw. “I’m trying to kiss you.”

“Why?”

This close to Mikasa, and she can hear her racing pulse. She can even feel it reverberating into her own body. Mikasa isn’t angry, or upset, so they both know ‘why?’ is a meaningless question. But sometimes, things need to be said. So that they are known. So that they are clear. She releases her punishing grip on Mikasa’s hair, folding her hands around Mikasa’s shoulders to hold her softly and levels her mouth to Mikasa’s ear.

“Mikasa,” she whispers, feeling the body in her arms shiver. “I just told you that no one has ever touched me where you’re touching now. But I’m allowing you because it’s you, because I want _you_. That doesn’t mean this is easy. I feel so exposed, Mikasa _._ ” She pauses to let the words sink in. To let Mikasa understand just how much of her she’s holding in her hands. “Shouldn’t I get something too? I want something from you Mikasa.”

She knows she’s not making an unreasonable request, and that she emphasized the right thing when Mikasa inhales sharply, but Mikasa’s long seconds of silence still makes her anxious. Mikasa is probably debating with herself, and while it’s only fair to allow her that, it doesn’t make the wait for the answer any less excruciating. The only consolation is the finger on her behind, still circling, still keeping her worked up. It tells her that whatever Mikasa is thinking of, she hasn’t been put off by this, and she still intends to finish her off. Annie takes comfort in that at least.

Finally Mikasa shifts, and answers her softly. “Not that. Ask for something else.”

The stimulation on her clit starts up again almost immediately, brushing aside any of her disappointment with Mikasa’s answer, and she gasps as her arousal picks up exactly where it left off, no drop, no delay, and all at once it’s almost too much once more. Her right hand slides down to capture Mikasa’s and forcibly halts its movement. It only makes the other hand on her behind circle faster. “Stop. Don’t make me come yet.”

“Tell me what you want later. I won’t take it back.”

She shakes her head, clamping down on Mikasa’s fingers. It has to be now, before the moment is lost. She doesn’t doubt that Mikasa won’t go back on her words, but in the haze of orgasm, sated and gratified, she herself might not want anything anymore. Might be swayed into not wanting anything anymore. And she cannot know if she’ll ever have a chance like this again. So it has to be now. She knows exactly what she wants. If Mikasa won’t allow kissing, she won’t allow reciprocation either. But that is not the only way to get what she wants.

“Are you turned on right now?” Annie asks, whispering into Mikasa’s ear once more. Mikasa swallows, exhaling harshly onto her neck, and then she feels just the barest nod of her head. That’s good enough. “I want you to get yourself off by grinding on my thigh. Skin to skin.”

Then she draws back, needing to see Mikasa’s expression and Mikasa does the same, tilting her head up to look at her. Mikasa’s eyes are widened, but it is not surprise she sees, or shock, or anything of the like. Maybe because in her long seconds of silence previously, Mikasa has already considered that she might ask for this. It is a look of conflict instead, a war in Mikasa’s eyes. She knows Mikasa wants this, she saw how her eyes darkened. That doesn’t stop Mikasa’s brows from knotting, her shoulders from tensing, the hand in her grip from twitching, or her jaw from clenching. But the hand on her behind is truthful, and it hasn’t stopped moving.

“Okay.”

The eventual answer has her shivering with almost unrestrained excitement. “Okay?”

Mikasa nods. “Okay.”

It’s only then that she lets go of Mikasa’s hand and practically pleads with Mikasa to bring her to orgasm, pushing Mikasa’s fingers against herself. Mikasa does as she asks, fingers rubbing into her front and back, lips and tongue on her breasts, and when she heightens it all by rolling her hips, by thinking of what she’ll be able to get from Mikasa when she’s done, it doesn’t take long at all before she comes powerfully to the measured strokes of Mikasa’s fingers and tongue. She slumps down against Mikasa as she catches her breath, feeling all her muscles contracting from the aftershocks, feeling Mikasa still languidly caressing her behind and that fluttering ring of muscle. She doesn’t know if Mikasa is simply being thorough with her attentions, or if this is going to be a thing, but thankfully Mikasa lays off her clit, and just wraps that hand comfortably around her waist.

This afterglow lasts longer than the first, mostly because Mikasa doesn’t interrupt it to express any other strange desires. So as she waits for her body to return to itself, she takes to running her fingers through Mikasa’s hair, doing it again and again when Mikasa sighs contentedly. She’s not sure how long they sit there, wrapped around each other in the dim orange glow, but eventually Mikasa sucks one last hickey into her neck before she folds her arms together underneath her rear to form a seat.

“Hold on to me,” Mikasa says, lifting her together as she stands up.

Mikasa carries her like that to the bedroom, not saying anything even as half way there, they fumble to remove the strap-on from inside her because the movements is making it poke around awkwardly. She has half a mind to comment on Mikasa’s strength, because Mikasa shows no signs of strain at all while carrying her or better yet, to point out that she can walk herself to the bedroom, but she holds her tongue because Mikasa’s quietness is not that of afterglow, it’s pensive. And she leaves Mikasa to it, granting her the silence. But when Mikasa continues not to say anything even as she is gently lowered onto the bed, when Mikasa shucks off her sweatpants, the harness and the strap-on, her panties, all in quick succession almost mechanically, she gets the feeling that she really should check with Mikasa again before this goes any further.

She has a chance to think it over as Mikasa steps into the bathroom to wash her hands. Checking in with Mikasa again would give Mikasa the chance to change her mind, and while it would be disappointing, if at all Mikasa felt pressured and in truth doesn’t want this, then there is no point. Mikasa’s comfort means more to her than what she wants. When Mikasa returns and silently climbs onto the bed, head turned away to not look at her face, Annie makes up her mind.

She rears up to her knees, holding up her hand to halt Mikasa’s approach. “Mikasa, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

Mikasa looks at her then, and she quickly realizes that it’s not doubt or reluctance that is coloring Mikasa’s cheeks red. And then the gravity of what she had asked for really hits her. She swallows, only now registering that Mikasa is naked waist down, with her, on the bed. Of course Mikasa’s feeling shy. Of course Mikasa’s feeling embarrassed. For as much as they’ve had sex, Mikasa is actually inexperienced, so this is the first time Mikasa is consciously experiencing what it’s like to be in the other position. What Mikasa needs right now isn’t her questioning and adding to the hesitance, but encouragement.

“I said okay.” Mikasa’s tone is almost petulant, and she’s slanting her eyebrows like she’s angry.

Annie quickly nods, smiling as soothingly as she can as she curls her fingers lightly into Mikasa’s shirt. “Yes, yes you did.” Then gently, she pulls at the shirt, tugging Mikasa forward as she sits down and spreads out her legs. “Come here.”

Mikasa averts her eyes but obliges, crawling up on her knees, and automatically swinging one over Annie’s left thigh to straddle it. They aren’t touching yet, but Annie can already feel the heat from Mikasa’s body, smell the heady scent of Mikasa’s arousal, hear Mikasa’s breath growing short, and see the wet trails on the inside of Mikasa’s thighs. Her stomach twists with a desire to lick them up, to taste them, and she sucks in a breath for steadiness, but all it does is fill her up with that deep, musky scent, making her dizzy with need. It’s not quite right. She’s already come twice, and this part here should be about Mikasa, not her, but she cannot help her body’s reaction.

“Take off your shirt.”

Mikasa whirls towards her, surprise etched in her face. “Why?”

She immediately raises her hands, pacifying. “I won’t touch you,” she assures, and as proof, she places them both down flat on the mattress. “I just want to see you.”

The fluster on Mikasa’s cheeks only grows redder but then she looks away and pulls her turtleneck off in one swift motion. “Happy?”

There’s a testiness about Mikasa that she’s not sure if it’s due to Mikasa trying to distract herself, or if Mikasa really is irritated. And if it is the latter, she’s not sure she knows how to defuse it either. Mikasa has gotten on her nerves so many times, but somehow it seems as though Mikasa always knows how to handle it, how to calm her down. But she doesn’t know how to do the same, and she’s not sure if she should even try, or simply be as accommodating as she can. So she merely watches as Mikasa gets into position-placing one hand on her abs and the other on her thigh-and takes a deep breath before lowering herself.

They both gasp when their flesh meets, and Mikasa glances up at her, like she doesn’t understand why Annie’s gasping too. But Mikasa clearly isn’t seeking for an answer either, for she immediately starts to move, tentatively at first, and then more, rubbing herself resolutely against Annie’s thigh. It is everything and nothing like what Annie imagines. Mikasa’s core is searing hot, but at the same time it’s also soaking wet, and it has Annie fisting the sheets, biting her lip in response.

“Fuck, Mikasa. You’re so hot and wet.”

Mikasa makes a guttural noise, her shoulders twitching as she grinds at her thigh harder, and Annie fights to keep herself still, to not reach out and touch Mikasa in some way or form. To be the reason Mikasa is breathing so hard and fast, to draw out the little gasps and moans, to feel Mikasa trembling beneath her hands. Instead she tightens her fists and bites her lip harder as she keeps herself still, and just watches. She watches the wet smear on her skin as Mikasa repeatedly glides her softness along, the flex of the muscles of Mikasa’s thighs and abs, the rise and fall of Mikasa’s chest, the parted lips and heavy breaths, the knotted brows above closed eyes, she watches everything.

And it leaves her aching with longing. Mikasa looks so beautiful when she’s chasing her pleasure like this. With quiet dignity. No sound but breathing and the littlest of noises. Then the words tumble right out of Annie’s mouth. “You’re so beautiful like this.”

Mikasa twitches again and digs her fingers painfully into her, but as she begins to work herself faster, more frantically, Annie realizes her words are a turn on. She instantly lists off everything she sees, everything she likes, and after every one she feels Mikasa becoming more and more undone, and getting closer and closer to climax.

“Thanks for taking off your shirt.”

“Your body is amazing, so hard and muscular.”

“I love the feeling of you moving against me.”

She saves the last one for when Mikasa is at the very cusp, when Mikasa is panting so hard and shaking so much, when Mikasa goes still in those precious moments just before her orgasm, and then she says it.

“I’ve wanted so long to watch you like this.”

As with everything else, Mikasa’s climax is a quiet affair, with only the softest sigh marking its high point, and then a tapered groan marking its descent. Despite that, with her head thrown back, mouth agape and panting for breath, and her body intermittently jerking with orgasmic tremors, it’s the most open Annie has ever seen Mikasa. There’s a throbbing between her legs and an aching inside her chest, and she yearns to fold Mikasa into her arms and appreciate this display of vulnerability. To make certain that fact to Mikasa. But she doesn’t get to do that, or enjoy Mikasa coming down from her high, for the moment Mikasa opens her eyes, it only takes a few heartbeats before the hazy, unfocused gleam clears up and then Mikasa hurriedly scrambles off the bed.

The sudden loss of Mikasa’s weight and heat on her thigh, and the sweet pain of Mikasa’s fingers gripping onto her flesh, almost makes her whine. Puzzled, she stares questioningly at Mikasa, standing across the room holding on to the wardrobe for support. She can’t think of what she’s done to spark that reaction. “Mikasa? What—”

“I’m going to take a shower,” Mikasa blurts between deep breaths, and she seems to be making a effort not to meet Annie’s eyes. “You can too if you want. And then later—” Mikasa looks to the wall clock, drawing Annie’s attention there as well, and it’s well past one in the morning, “—I’ll send you home.”

Mikasa literally charges right out of the room after that leaving Annie even more puzzled as to what is going on. Once again, Mikasa doesn’t seem angry or upset, but that only makes the action more unwarranted. Haven’t they passed the point where they need to pretend to be strangers after they’re done? Did they not, just before this, spend long minutes basking in the afterglow wrapped together on the couch? She sighs, having half the mind to chase after Mikasa, if only to understand what on earth is going on in the other woman’s head when her hand brushes against the wetness on her thigh and she freezes at the feel. She looks down at the smear on her hand, and then at the bigger smear on her leg, breathes in the heady scent of it, and then she gets it.

Right now, a surge of oxytocin is coursing through Mikasa’s veins. So surely, Mikasa left because she feared that if she stays, she might end up doing something she regrets. Or multiple somethings she regrets. Indeed, thinking back on the look in Mikasa’s eyes, hazy and unfocused, had Mikasa not acted first, Annie might have. She’s not sure what she would have done, but she would have done something. And in that state, it’s likely Mikasa would have let her, would not have resisted. But it’s also likely that she won’t the feel the same about it in the morning.

In a flurry of noise, Mikasa suddenly reappears in the bedroom with a bathrobe on, but she doesn’t pay attention to Annie, going straight to her wardrobe to haphazardly pull some clothes out. However, just before Mikasa bolts again, Annie catches Mikasa’s eyes rolling over to peek at her, and it isn’t like she’s been waiting for that to happen or anything, but when it does, she doesn’t hesitate. She lifts her thigh, bends down her head, and drags her tongue along the wetness Mikasa left on her skin. Mikasa grunts, almost immediately turning away as she continues on without pause, but the outer bathroom door slamming shut in the distance informs Annie of Mikasa’s reaction.

She doesn’t know what to make of it, whether it was a good or bad idea to do that, but the taste in her mouth overpowers her thoughts and belatedly she moans, taking in another whiff of the scent as she licks again. It’s tangy, with a lingering sweetness on her tongue, and it tastes so _Mikasa_. That’s probably meaningless, but she doesn’t know how else to describe it and she doesn’t even care right now because licking up the remains of Mikasa’s arousal, remembering that precise moment when Mikasa’s thighs clamped tight around hers in a burst of wetness, is making her own flare up again. How she wishes she could taste Mikasa right from the source. She groans, glad now that Mikasa isn’t around, that Mikasa left when she did, because had Mikasa stayed, she probably wouldn’t have been able to restrain herself. Not with that hazy and unfocused look in her eyes and with that sense of openness and vulnerability.

She’s a selfish person at heart. She would have taken advantage of that. She would have kissed Mikasa, pushed her down onto the bed, slid her hand down between her legs, said her name like a prayer into her ears, and touched her with calloused fingers until she comes sobbing in her arms. Annie groans again, suddenly aware that she’s rubbing at herself desperately to the thoughts of all the things she wants to do to Mikasa, to the fresh memories of Mikasa getting herself off on her thigh. And she knows she shouldn’t do this, she shouldn’t be masturbating on Mikasa’s bed while Mikasa is elsewhere, trusting her to be taking a shower and cleaning herself up, but she’s too far gone now to stop. Her orgasm is right there, just beyond the horizon so close she can feel it, and when she buries her head into Mikasa’s pillow as she sucks on the remnants of Mikasa’s arousal smeared on her hand, she comes.

It’s nothing like the two orgasms she’s had before, nothing like all the ones Mikasa gives her, but it serves its purpose. The tension in her muscles that has been there ever since Mikasa carried her into the bedroom finally releases its hold on her, and she finally relaxes into the sheets, feeling the exhaustion from her repeated exertions taking over. She should probably get up, take a shower or at least just dress herself again, because Mikasa must be nearly done with her own shower by now. Mikasa says she’ll send her home so she shouldn’t keep her waiting. But she’s so tired that all she wants to do is just lie here for a while. Just for a while. Just until she catches her breath. And then she closes her eyes.

When she opens her eyes again, her vision is instantly assaulted by brightness, the sort of brightness that only occurs with natural daylight. She sighs, pulling the blanket up over her head, unwilling to face the day yet. But just as she gets comfortable under the covers for another few minutes of shut eye, an immense sense of wrongness bubbles up into her chest, and it quickly becomes so keen it has her springing up on high alert even as her mind struggles to process what exactly is wrong. She surveys around her for threats, for something out of place, and the wrongness intensifies because everything is out of place. Her heart rate speeds up as she realizes that this familiar place is not her room, that this familiar bed is not her bed, and as she flings the blanket away from herself, the source of the wrongness becomes clear. She’s not wearing any pants.

And that’s when her mind finally catches up. “Fuck.” She looks around again, at the closed door and the walls and out the window and the bed and herself, but the reality that she’s bottomless, that daylight is streaming in through the curtains, that this is Mikasa’s room, remains the same. “Oh shit.”

Pressing her hands into her face she lets out a strangled noise, almost wanting to gouge her eyes out because this is so stupid, and the worst part is she remembers every bit of her stupidity. Instead of getting up to take a shower like she should, she idiotically closed her eyes to rest for a while, only for a while to become all night. She jumps out of bed in panic, but the fact remains that there are no threats but her own mistake, and it paralyzes her on that spot, leaving her with nothing but her jitters. She doesn’t know what to do. The fact that she’s still here probably means that Mikasa doesn’t mind, because surely if Mikasa tried to wake her up, she would have. But she remembers clearly that Mikasa wanted to send her home, so it’s highly possible that while Mikasa left her to sleep out of kindness, she’s actually really upset by it. Then something else hits her and she glances at the bed. It’s big enough for the both of them, but that is totally another level of intimacy. Surely Mikasa didn’t. She tries to look for signs, but if they were any, all her springing around and tossing the blanket has erased them.

“Dammit!”

She inhales, forcing herself to calm down. First things first. She needs to stop standing around in the middle of the room with no pants on, but that’s when she recalls that she stripped off her clothes in the living room and she has another round of wanting to gouge her eyes out. A litany of curses rises to her throat but there are so many of them that none of them comes out. Exasperatedly she sighs, wondering if she pulled at her jacket could she make it long enough to cover her up, when she suddenly realizes that her jacket has been zipped up, and she clearly doesn’t remember doing that before falling asleep. Then she pauses as she gets flashes of something else, flashes that she isn’t sure are from her dreams or are real. Flashes of the sensation and sound of her zipper being done up, which is probably real, and then flashes of the sensation of gentle touches on her cheek and fingers brushing through her hair. She swallows, unsure if that one is real, or a dream she made real.

Calmer now, she finally notices that there is a pile of clothes neatly folded at the edge of the bed, clothes she quickly recognizes to be her own. And that’s not all, there is a piece of paper sitting on the top of the pile. It’s obvious then, that Mikasa put them there, and that the paper is a message from Mikasa and gingerly, she reaches out to pick it up.

 

_Annie. Don’t panic._

_Take a shower, if you want. And when you’re ready, I’ll be waiting in the kitchen._

_Come have breakfast._

 

_P.S. The windows are unlocked, if you’d rather. But I wouldn’t recommend it._

 

Annie snorts at the postscript in a mix of confusion and mirth, half wanting to actually test it but no, it doesn’t matter. She’s not going to escape through the window. She’d never be able to look at Mikasa’s face again if she does. Rereading the note once more, she sits back down on the bed as the rest of her panic dissipates, because Mikasa leaving a note with what appears to be a joke at the end implies that Mikasa isn’t upset like she feared. And in that moment, it feels like a fog lifts, and she settles herself and properly takes stock of her surroundings.

The first thing she picks up are noises from outside, the clatter of cups and plates, and it must be Mikasa preparing her breakfast, having realized that she’s now awake from her freak out earlier. She looks around, never having been in Mikasa’s room this early in the morning, and there’s something tranquil about it that she’s tempted to crawl back into bed. It’s almost surreal, the realization that she has really just spent the night. Once, that would have horrified her immeasurably. But now she feels quite the opposite, with her worries only being how Mikasa feels about it. She looks down at the note again. If Mikasa is all right with it, then she’s all right with it. Unzipping her jacket, she decides to have the shower she was supposed to have yesterday and go out to face Mikasa.

In the shower, she makes a crazy discovery. Mikasa sometimes leaves a single hickey, but now as she stares into the mirror, she finds that her neck, shoulders, and even the top of her breasts are littered with hickeys. And then there’s her thigh and hip, which are also bruised from Mikasa’s strong grip when she grinded herself off. It would be impossible to hide all of these, especially with how much Eren also wants sex lately. Mikasa must know that too, so this is completely unlike her. She blinks, then blinks again, but as she fingers a particularly large one high on her neck, remembering exactly how she got it, remembering everything else that they’d done, remembering the level of intimacy they shared, something begins stirring in her gut. She promptly goes into the shower and gets the cold water running.

By the time she has her hand on the door knob, anxiety has taken the place of arousal, the anxiety of not knowing what to say, or how to react, and escaping through the window seems like such a good idea now. But she refuses to be cowed and so taking a deep breath to steel herself, she opens the door. Mikasa is exactly where she says she’ll be, and upon catching sight of her, a smile blooms on Mikasa’s lips and its warmth instantly calms her nerves.

“Good morning,” Mikasa greets, and the normality of it all, as though Annie hasn’t just spent the night at Mikasa’s place when she shouldn’t have, is at once affecting and confusing.

She expects more awkwardness, but other than the strangeness of being in Mikasa’s place this early, and that nagging knowledge that she’s here because she spent the night, nothing else feels entirely unusual. And when she smells the amazing appetite stimulating aroma of breakfast, of coffee and ham and bacon and eggs and just wonderful things, she swallows the rest of her anxiety and decides to just figure things out along the way.

“Morning,” she replies, walking over to the table where her breakfast is laid out. Eagerly, she sits down and takes a sip of her coffee as she eyes the croissant sandwich on her plate with the aforementioned filling plus lettuce and tomatoes, and then there’s also a side of fresh fruits and a small slice of yesterday’s unfinished cake. “You’re amazing as usual. A bit excessive though.”

Mikasa only smiles wider as she eats her slice of cake, and Annie notes the empty plate that should have been her croissant. Clearly Mikasa has been up a while. “Did you sleep well?”

She nods, glad for Mikasa starting the conversation. But as she opens her mouth to say something herself, maybe ascertain how Mikasa feels about this, maybe apologize, another thing enters her notice. Mikasa seems to be staring quite intently on a particular spot which she realizes is probably her neck, and probably the one big hickey there that even by pulling up her collar as high as it’ll go, she cannot hide. Two things happens in quick succession then. Mikasa noticing in turn that she’s been caught staring, and a slight colour rising to her cheeks. But it’s not the embarrassed flush of being caught, or a remorseful one of leaving such an unconcealable mark in the first place. If anything, it feels more like a prideful flush. Like she’s pleased to have staked her claim.

Annie’s throat tightens at the thought. At what all the numerous marks now on her body means. But that can’t be right, can it? Surely, she’s analyzing Mikasa from wishful thinking lenses again. “You left a lot of marks. I can’t possibly hide them all.”

Mikasa’s gaze slides up from her neck to meet her eyes. “Just don’t sleep with him for a few days.” And immediately a shiver goes up Annie’s spine from the sheer possessiveness, and the utter disregard for Eren implied in that sentence. But just as immediately Mikasa drops her gaze with a frown and amends herself. “No wait, forget I said that. I’m sorry. I didn’t think about how difficult it would be for you after.”

The apology instantly irks her, like cold water on her parade, because just a moment ago it seemed as though Mikasa was proud of what she’d done, that her read on the hickeys being a deliberate possessive move was right. Mikasa even expresses it, only for her to then turn around and yield to Eren. And not even to Eren himself, but just the idea of him. It definitely irks her. Has nothing changed after last night, after how much of herself she has exposed to Mikasa? After how much Mikasa has exposed to her? She wants to counter, to grab on to that sliver of possessiveness and drag it out. But no, she’s almost certain that will send Mikasa into her detached phase, and put a sour note to last night. That the sliver is there is enough.

“I’m sorry about last night too,” Mikasa adds, “that I just left after I...you know.”

After getting herself off. After masturbating on her thigh. After orgasming in front of her. “It’s okay. I know why you left. Oxytocin, right?”

“Right, you understand,” Mikasa nods. “I feel like I didn’t explain myself properly. So I just want you to know that I wasn’t upset about doing that or anything.”

Annie nods herself, because she gets it. She gets it that while Mikasa might want and desire and do all sorts of things in the heat of the moment, at the end of the day, she will still turn back. She gets it that while the sliver is there, Mikasa is not ready for all the rest. She gets it because ‘the rest’ is a messy situation she created that she’s not even doing anything about. Even if Mikasa returns her feelings, what then? There is only hurt awaiting them. For all she doesn’t want to burden Mikasa with her feelings, to drag Mikasa into the hole she dug herself into, she’s all too keen for any signs that Mikasa will not mind falling with her.

“I’m sorry too,” she says finally, and again, it’s one of those sorries where she’s not even sure what she’s apologizing for. Everything. And one more now, as she’s surely made Mikasa even more conflicted after last night. They probably shouldn’t have this conversation right now however, so she clears her throat, and puts down her coffee to turn her attention elsewhere. “That I occupied your bed,” she adds, before Mikasa makes her own assumption about the apology. She looks to the living room, but of course Mikasa wouldn’t leave evidence of having slept there. “Did you sleep on the couch? The bed is big enough for us both, but I guess you wouldn’t want to. I should be the one sleeping on the couch. So, I’m sorry about that.”

Mikasa glances at her, and there’s something almost reticent about it. “Why would I?”

The question bounces back at her. “Why would you what?”

“Sleep on the couch,” Mikasa says, and then she pokes her cake with the fork and just stares at it. “I slept on my bed. I just got in after you were asleep and got out before you woke up.”

Annie blinks as her breath catches, as her heart rate inevitably rises, because she convinced herself that there’s no way Mikasa would have shared the bed with her. But then she bites her tongue to stem the feeling because that doesn’t mean there is anything significant about it. It’s Mikasa’s bed to begin with, it’s big enough for them both, and that could be all there is to it. Just them sleeping on the same piece of furniture. But none of that explains the flashes she got earlier, of tender touches on her cheek and fingers through her hair. None of that explains why Mikasa can’t seem to meet her eyes, or the almost shy look on her face.

She swallows. “Did you touch my cheek? Zip up my jacket?”

Mikasa raises her head. “You were awake?”

That means yes. “And you’re okay with this? Letting me stay overnight, sharing the bed with me after we had sex?”

Mikasa’s eyebrow twitches, probably due to her disdain of having what they’re doing being named so directly. It’s always insinuations, allusions, or if directly stated, usually playfully. Never in a more serious conversation. But some things need to be said, and now is not the time for hints or implications. She’s confused enough because of Mikasa’s mixed messages. In this short exchange alone, Mikasa is possessive, civil, and now reticent? She’s never been good at reading Mikasa admittedly, but Mikasa herself isn’t being consistent here.

At length, Mikasa pokes the cake with the fork again, and her reply is softly spoken. “You wouldn’t be here right now if I wasn’t okay with it.”

It’s a convenient non-answer that doesn’t really say anything. But as Annie observes Mikasa’s decimation of the cake, a move so unlike her it’s almost alarming, she gets the weirdest sensation of deja vu, and as she thinks harder she realizes that no, it’s not deja vu, but an actual conversation they’ve had that is very similar to this one. It was on that day when she came to Mikasa’s house for the first time, when she sat on the bed and Mikasa stood at the doorway, when they traded words that were evasive and deflective, when in truth they both knew why she came, they both wanted what she’s there for, but they both couldn’t simply say it. Because saying it out makes it real, and reminds them both that it’s wrong.

Could it be that the same thing is happening here? Is Mikasa being evasive because of things she cannot say outright but in truth they both know and feel the same? It could be, but Annie is far beyond the point of accepting vague answers and assumptions. She wants to know. She needs to take off her shirt and make things clear to them both. Mikasa still isn’t meeting her gaze, and so she looks instead to Mikasa’s hand on the table, the one not spearing the cake, the one closest to her. Her heart rate rises further as she braves it, reaching out her own hand and placing it lightly atop Mikasa’s own. That prompts a reaction, Mikasa’s eyes going first to their hands, and then finally up to meet hers. She doesn’t budge, and in return, Mikasa doesn’t either.

But she feels something going on with their hands. Mikasa slowly and gently rotating hers so that their palms meet and when they do, she’s not sure if she moves, or Mikasa moves, or they both move, but they find the right angle and then their fingers intertwine. She sucks in a breath, her heart beat now a thundering cacophony in her head and it feels like something needs to burst out of her chest. What grounds her is Mikasa’s surprisingly strong grip on her hand, firm and unyielding. What grounds her is the heat of their palms, and the perfect fit of their hands. What grounds her is the implied answer in the action, the implied answer in all their actions. Mikasa still cannot say it, just as she still cannot say it, but when she squeezes Mikasa’s hand, Mikasa squeezes back.

She can’t get their hand holding out of her mind for the rest of the day. She thinks about it all through breakfast, then all through the car ride to the subway station, then all through the train ride to her closest station, then all through her walk home. Even after all that, she just can’t seem to calm down. Something inside her is just nerves, and it’s making her want to run or jump or scream, all of which is so unlike her that she just doesn’t know what to do. It doesn’t help that everywhere she goes, she sees the red hearts and roses and chocolates of Valentine’s Day being displayed and advertised, and although she isn’t associating that with them, because they are not that sort of lovers, but it does make her think of Mikasa which inevitably leads to thinking about holding hands which inevitably leads to her nerves running high.

She probably should go home, but there are so many things there that would just remind her of Mikasa further. She could go to the gym to blow off some steam, but somehow the energy coursing through her doesn’t feel like the type she could just punch, kick, or work out away. It’s screaming to be released, but not through such violent means. She sighs, wishing now that she hadn’t parted from Mikasa, that Mikasa hadn’t gone to the ‘friends version’ of her birthday party, or that she had agreed to go along. Interestingly enough, it’s going on right now in Reiner’s Diner, since they all became friends during Christmas, so she absolutely could have gone, pretended that she’s there because of Reiner and Bertholdt. But in the wake of what just happened yesterday and this morning, with her emotions all frayed up as they are, it’s probably not the best idea. And if she’s as frayed as she is, she gets the sense that Mikasa too, needs some time to herself.

Eventually, she goes home only to unload her guitar, and then she goes to the nearby park and sits on one of the empty benches. It’s strange, she thought she would be more contented now that she has a confirmation that Mikasa somewhat feels the same, but instead she feels just as unsettled as the times where Mikasa was being detached or confusing. Maybe because while not detached, Mikasa is being odd and confusing. Some part of her wants to talk to someone about it, but there is no such one. No one but Mikasa herself, but at the same time, these are the things they cannot talk about too seriously because the wrongness then becomes obvious, and them wanting to continue despite that then makes them horrible people. She takes out her phone to send a text anyway, because now that she’s thought of it, the feeling of needing to get this off her chest won’t leave her.

After that, she waits. Pulling her hoodie up over her head, and bringing her knees up against her body,she makes herself comfortable on the bench enjoying the chilly February breeze. And maybe because she very rarely asks to talk, it takes only about ten minutes before she spots her very tall friend through the mass of people, which is really impressive. He might have taken the van. And left it at the side of the road where its bound to get a ticket. But he’s here, and he rushes over to her when she waves her hand.

“Annie,” Bertholdt calls, holding up his phone. He’s a little out of breath, and has even worked up a sweat, and it fills her with immense gratitude. It remains to be seen if the gratitude lasts. “I got your text,” he says, as though there is any other reason for him to race all the way here so suddenly.

“Thanks,” she replies, gesturing for him to sit and catch his breath. He does, not taking his eyes off her. She looks behind him to be sure he’s alone. “And Reiner?”

“Not a word, like you asked.”

He seems a bit wary as he answers, but the point is that he did it. She smiles appreciatively. “Is it okay for you to be gone?”

He nods. “We’re closed to celebrate Mikasa’s birthday anyway.”

“Ah, right.” That’s how she thought of him in the first place.

“Aren’t you going to join the party?” he asks.

“No. I attended the private one, yesterday,” she says, and then instantly having to school her expression because instead of the dinner bits coming to mind, it’s all the other things afterwards that does. She tightens up the hood of her hoodie, suddenly realizing that she’s been going around with a visible hickey.

“Of course. With Eren.”

He says it like it’s the most obvious thing, and to an extent, she would agree with him. She agrees with him that of course she attended the private party yesterday, but not because she’s Eren’s girlfriend. She didn’t attend her boyfriend’s sister’s birthday dinner. She attended Mikasa’s birthday dinner, because they’re sleeping with each other, and maybe they have feelings for each other, but they cannot be together because the chain link they no longer need is also the chain link holding them together and everything is complicated.

“You could still come to this one,” Bertholdt adds, still eyeing her, and she shakes her head.

“It’d be distracting.”

She leaves it vague like that, and he doesn’t prod. She sighs, resting her chin on her knees, wondering when her feelings will finally calm. Do all people in love go through this? Is this what it’s like to actually be in love? Because if so, then she is really off the mark with Eren. And if so, then she really, really feel like she understands him now. But it’s probably not in the way he wants.

The silence stretches like that for a while, and then she finally turns to look at Bertholdt, who is still watching her from across the bench. “You’re not going to ask me why I called you here?”

He leans back on the bench and puts his hands together on his lap as he contemplates his words. “It’s obvious you’re troubled about something. If you don’t want to talk about it, no amount of asking would get you to open up. And I do not think that you’d call me or anyone out if you weren’t ready to talk about it. So I think the best thing to do now is just for me to wait.”

She smiles again, thanking him with it. “And that’s why I called you instead of Reiner. That and his self-righteous nature.”

Bertholdt laughs despite the gibe at their friend, and true to his word, even as his laugh tapers off, he says nothing and continues to wait. He does however, have a smile on now. The same shy, unassuming smile from before. Like he can keep a secret. And he has kept her secret, all this time. It’s likely what makes her want to talk to him, out of everyone else.

“Do you remember what I told you before?”

“Before?” he echoes, and then his brows knit together in concentration. “Well, if you could tell me when that’d be helpful.”

She raises an eyebrow, amused by the fact that he’s actually going to try and figure it out instead of asking her outright. Maybe he actually can figure it out, because she doesn’t tell him many things to begin with, but there is no need for that. That’s just beating around the bush, and she wants to get right to the point. “That I slept with someone else. That I had fantastic sex with them.”

His eyes instantly grows wide, like he didn’t expect her to just dump that. “Oh. Oh, that,” he replies, clearly trying to keep his cool, but she’s sure he’s already putting the pieces together. There are only so many reasons she’d bring this up, after all. “What about it?”

He says that last bit with a smaller voice, like he’s hopeful she isn’t going to say what he thinks she’s going to say, so she makes sure to catch his eyes before she answers so he will know that she’s serious. So he will not even try to brush off what she says as a joke. So he will understand the gravity of the situation. “I’m still sleeping with them. All this time. Since then. I never stopped.”

He doesn’t joke about it. Instead his expression immediately turns stricken. But while he doesn’t joke, he doesn’t seem to know what to say either as he turns to look straight ahead, repeatedly opening and closing his mouth. She cannot hold his reaction against him. Back then, she made it sound like it was a one time thing. She made it sound like it was just physical. And to be fair to her, it was. Until one day when that just ceased to be true. She doesn’t even know when exactly, or how exactly. It just happened. She looks at Bertholdt, still figuring out what to say, and she wants him to ask the same thing he did the first time. So she can amend the answer from before to the one that it actually is now. So he wouldn’t continue to think that she’s still sleeping with someone she doesn’t care for just because the sex is great.

And then at length, he clears his throat and glances her way. “But I thought you don’t—you like that person?”

She almost cannot believe that it is the same question. With extras, but it is still in essence the question she wants so she looks away as well and lets out the breath she was holding. And as she takes in another one, she thinks of that person. She thinks of that person and her body warms up. She thinks of that person and her mind lights up. She thinks of that person and she smiles. “Yes. I’m in love with her.”

The admission, the real admission this time, brutally honest and not masked in insinuating hints even to herself, is even more uplifting than the first one. She raises the hand that held Mikasa’s to her face, feeling the phantom sensations of their intertwined fingers, the heat of their palms, the smoothness of her skin. And as she places that hand over her heart to feel it beat strong and steady, but not quick, she knows she’ll be fine now. This is what she needed to do. This is what she needed to say. To herself. To Mikasa. To Eren. But Bertholdt is good practice.

“I’m in love with her,” she repeats, and she feels more of herself solidifying.

Slowly, she turns her head slightly to look at Bertholdt, expecting to see...she doesn’t know what she expects to see. Horror maybe, as he realizes that she just confessed to having cheated on Eren for months. Maybe disappointment too, because it’s such a reprehensible thing to do, and it makes her a bad person for doing it. And certainly there is something judgmental in his expression, something very critical, but when he sees her looking he drops it with a sigh and musters up a smile. Of course, because he is still her friend. He has to be supportive, and comforting. But she doesn’t want his pity.

“I’m happy for you, Annie.”

Annie blinks. “Wait, what?”

His smile is genuine, bright and reaching his eyes as he gazes at her. “That expression in your face right now, I have never seen it before. You look happy. Glowing. How could I not be happy for you?”

She feels a flush coming up to her cheeks even as her mind reels against the turn the conversation has taken, and she hides her face in her knees. “You’re not—you’re supposed to tell me what a horrible person I am.”

He laughs at her reaction, and then he shakes his head. “No. If there’s anything I’m supposed to do, it’s to apologize to you. Me and Reiner both.”

She frowns. “I’m not following.”

He smiles, inching closer to her on the bench as she senses him going into big brother mode, something he rarely does without Reiner around. But his aura is much gentler than Reiner’s and thus a lot easier to tolerate. “We’ve known each other since we were young right? You, me and Reiner.”

She nods. “Yeah?”

“So we’ve been around for each other at every point of our lives. We were there when Reiner was struggling with his sexuality, you and him were there when I got into my first, nervous, sweating, bumbling relationship, and he and I were there for yours,” he explains, grinning in good humor at his own description of his first relationship. “But you know,” he goes on, assuming a more serious tone now, “from the start, all your relationships have been short lived and purely physical. None of them lasted more than six months. And of course there’s nothing wrong with wanting something more transient, or to have a physical relationship, or to break things off with an incompatible partner, but somehow or the other, all your relationships fell into one of these categories. So you see why Reiner and I, we got worried.”

“About what?” she retorts, a little disconcerted now with how much her friends have been paying attention to her relationships. More attention than she herself pays them, apparently.

“That you have commitment issues, because it seemed like you’re always breaking things off before they become serious.”

“Why would I want to commit to a relationship I’m not serious about? To a person I can’t see myself with?”

He raises both hands to soothe her, to indicate that he’s not done, and it’s another thing he does differently than Reiner’s one hand of authority. “I know, but that’s why I think both Reiner and I got a little too excited when you got together with Eren.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like Reiner said before, you and him had a proper beginning, dates first before bed and all that. And you told us that he seems compatible to you, and he seems a really decent guy, and so we both really wanted things to work out for you both. Maybe that’s why, when trouble started brewing within the relationship, we thought it was the same thing with you again. That you were just picking at some reason to end the relationship. So instead of really being there for you, we gave you fix-it solutions to keep the relationship going,” Bertholdt elaborates. “And here’s the part where I have to personally apologize.”

He looks at her first, as though waiting for her go ahead in case she’s still processing everything he just said. She is, but she can think about it later, and gives her go ahead with a nod.

“When you opened up to me about what happened, I really panicked. Because that had been the six months mark of your relationship with Eren. I thought you were desperately trying to end things that you cheated. I didn’t stop to think about why you would resort to that specifically, instead of just breaking up. I didn’t stop to think that if you really did cheat as an excuse to break up, why you would ask me not to tell anyone. I didn’t stop to actually listen to you about what is actually going on. I just gave you another fix-it,” he says, capping it off with a sigh. “I’m sorry, Annie.”

She scowls, even as he apologizes, because all this information is almost too much. To think that her two friends thought this way of her. Perhaps they’re right about the commitment bit, but the fact that they’ve been subtly steering her to stay with Eren, she doesn’t know what to think of that. “So what happens now?”

“Now that I’ve listened to you like I should have, I’m also going to do what I should have before. Be your friend,” he says, seemingly more at ease now that he has apologized, and he smiles widely at her. “You’re in love with someone. I’m happy for you. And I’ll support you. So if Eren ever gives you trouble about this, then you tell me and I’ll mess him up.”

Annie can’t help but laugh at his declaration, but there’s something about the way he speaks and the smile he wears that makes her chest warm. “You’re so gangly Eren will beat you for sure.”

He shrugs. “I can try. I’m your ally, after all.”

She smiles at him, feeling amazingly light because not only has she finally admitted that she’s in love with Mikasa, but now she has a friend who isn’t judging her for it. This isn’t how she imagined the talk would go at all. “Thank you Bertholdt. You’re way better at this than Reiner.”

He smiles too, but it’s clear the mention of Reiner has him thinking. And then he clears his throat deliberately. “Are you not planning to tell Reiner?”

She shakes her head. “He’ll just insist I come clean, or do it for me.”

“Well...shouldn’t you?” Bertholdt ventures. “I don’t think it’s wrong to fall in love with someone else so I don’t fault you, or anyone, for your feelings. But, to string Eren along like this...”

“Makes me a bad person, right?” she says, finishing his sentence for him.

“I did not say that,” he counters, shaking his hands. “It’s just that I don’t understand why you’re still with him. That person you’re in love with, does she know about Eren?”

She has to resist the urge to sneer, smiling bitterly instead. “Oh she does. She knows very well.”

He frowns, obviously not knowing what to make of her reply, but nevertheless he goes on with his point. “Then isn’t this unfair to both of them?”

“It is,” she agrees, sighing. Then she presses her face back against her knees. “You’re right. This is really messed up but even though I’ve thought about it so many times before, I can’t break up with Eren.”

“Why?”

She looks at his face, sees his utter perplexity, and she hugs her knees tighter. “Because if I break up with him, then she’ll end things with me. Both relationships are tied together.”

“What? Why would your relationship with Eren affect your relationship with her? Who—”

His words abruptly cuts off as his eyes suddenly widens. She’s not sure what tipped him off, which of the things she said that had him putting two and two together, but she doesn’t doubt he’s figured it out correctly. So she simply brings one finger up against her lips to make the gesture of silence and when he notices it, despite his shock, he nods stiffly. At least now she will not need to explain further why. And at least his expression cycling from shock to confusion to disbelief is amusing to watch.

“How did you know who?”

“Huh?” he looks at her, still not quite over his shock, but he quickly focuses on her question. “Oh, um, there aren’t that many new people in your life recently, Annie. Narrow it down to someone you’ve known since August, female, and connected to Eren in some way, and there isn’t really anyone else.”

She raises her brows at his deduction. It isn’t like she’s trying to hide it from him, but still the ease in which it could be figured out is scary. “I see,” she nods. “Makes sense.”

They lapse into another silence then, a silence he spends with his arms crossed while seemingly deep in thought, probably still trying to work out the fact that the other person is Mikasa. Although the fact that he only figured it out via the clues she let him have, means that there’s nothing overt in their interactions, so that is at least comforting. Eventually Bertholdt exhales a long breath, like he’s done thinking about it, or he’s giving up thinking about it, but the smile he gives immediately makes her tense up.

“So, Mikasa huh?” It’s a teasing smile and now he’s gone into that mode instead. It’s also such a Reiner thing to do, but it goes to show that Bertholdt absolutely can do it too. She feels another flush coming to her face just from his smile which only makes him smile wider when he notices. And then he pats her head. “Don’t judge a book by its cover, I guess? She really doesn’t seem like the type who would be really gentle and slow and thorough.”

She glares at his hand that he immediately retracts with a laugh but what is done is done and surely he sees how flaming red her cheeks have become because unbelievably, he remembers precisely what she told him all those months ago about what sex was like with Mikasa. She suddenly wants a hole to hide in and she makes herself as small as she possibly can on the bench. “Shut up. She’s a fucking tease nowadays, that’s what she is.”

He laughs even more. “Well, I certainly have nothing to say about that.” And then he scoots closer and she feels him going into big brother and teasing mode at the same time and she wants to die from embarrassment already. Or just run really. “But I’m glad for you Annie. Mikasa seems very stoic, but she also seems very kind, and I get the sense that she’s really caring to those she loves.”

He’s clearly so much better at reading people than she is, because for how little Bertholdt and Mikasa interacts, that’s a very good read. Or perhaps if she hadn’t started off disliking Mikasa, she would have noticed sooner too. His hand is suddenly on her head again and this time he doesn’t remove it even through her glare. Instead, he drops a bomb on her. “Does she love you?”

She raises her head, his hand with it, taken aback by the question. But well, that’s the big question, isn’t it? And she wishes she could answer with certainty, she wishes what happened this morning made it clear, but ultimately, it only made things clear _er_ , but not clear enough. She brings up her hand and looks at it. “I think so. I _hope_ so.”

It sure sounds better than ‘I don’t know’ which is probably closer to the truth. At the end of the day, even holding hands is simply another form of touch, and they’ve done that aplenty. So long as nothing is actually said about them, no significance is placed upon them, Mikasa can simply deny that it meant anything. He smiles at her, understanding, and moves his hand from her head to around her shoulder. Normally she’d shrug it off, but she gets his intent and right now it feels nice to have a body pillow.

“What do you plan to do?” he asks.

She sighs, leaning her head on his arm. “I wish I knew.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Point form thoughts:
> 
> \- I'm an awful lyricist. I sat down and penned that in 15 minutes, so I'm pretty sure it sucks. Happy Birthday song doesn't even have the best melody. I love that I can abuse the third line to be as long as I want though.
> 
> \- Excuse my indulgence on the smut. It was really long yeah. And I hope no one's mad that I didn't warn about the slight back door play. I wanted to keep it a surprise. This is also me subtly saying that when these two get together for real, they're totally going to be kinky with each other.
> 
> \- Some people seem to think that if anyone is going to find out about Mikasa and Annie, it'd be Armin just because he'a an observant guy. But way back in chapter 5, when Annie literally told Bertholdt she slept with someone else, no one seemed to find that worrying. I was genuinely surprised. Perhaps even to readers he's shy, unassuming, and completely non-threatening. Originally in my drafts, I was going to make him very critical and disapproving of Annie but then I realized that that's just too cruel. Annie is already quite aware that what she's doing is wrong, and she does beat herself up over it too. So adding another condemning voice is just needless. What she could use however, is a supportive friend. 
> 
> And now, for the 'quiz' answers! It's B and C. However, I am accepting all answers as correct for question 1.   
> So, here are those who answered it right: Ry, EndOfBeginning, LynxCarlyle, HappyAnon, Kool_Tentacle, Slut_for_Roses_and_Bees, rightwingcommies, and UNHoLY.  
> To all of the above, leave me your prompts if you so desire. Since it's a reward, I'll try my best to write whatever you prompt, so it doesn't even have to be Mikaani. But more Mikaani is good. Hint hint.


	14. it's tumbling down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all have enjoyed the past 3 or 4 chapters of Mikaani goodness. But now's the time to finally wrap up this story, so we're getting the pain and all the iffy parts. Enjoy that too.
> 
> As always, thank you very much to all the comments and kudos and everything else. I cannot even begin to express how every one of these has helped me get this far with this story, so much love to all you readers!
> 
> \--
> 
> Chapter title taken from Teardrop by Massive Attack.

Talking to Bertholdt doesn’t give her any answers even though he does try to bounce around ideas with her, ranging from the plausible, which is simply breaking up with them both and letting time heal the wounds before trying again with Mikasa, to the downright ridiculous, which is staging a kidnapping for Mikasa so that she and her can start anew elsewhere. She resists telling him that he and whoever he brings along as his accomplices are likelier to die in the attempt. But while the talk doesn’t provide answers, it does give her peace of mind from being able to unload on him, which is more relieving than she imagines, and it gives her a friend who can cover for her. For five days after Mikasa’s birthday, she cites ‘business with Bertholdt’ as the reason she can’t stay over at Eren’s place or have him stay over at hers to allow the marks Mikasa left to fade away, and it’s incredibly refreshing to have Bertholdt corroborate her story.

Having Bertholdt also gives her a measuring stick for how others are perceiving her and Mikasa, and since he never saw anything suspicious in their public interactions, she can rest assured on that front. That measure however, doesn’t quite work for Armin, who is Mikasa’s childhood friend, and thus the things he would look for is far different than Bertholdt. Bertholdt also doesn’t often see her and Mikasa together, whereas Armin has been seeing them both quite regularly since he started their lunches. And there’s been so many of them that she can’t be sure she has never let anything slip. Especially when he does things like this—

“I think Mikasa is seeing someone.”

—and his gaze seemingly lingers on her overlong instead of Eren. She’s been uneasy about Armin for a while, but now it turns to full blown dread.

“Wait, really?!”

She takes the opportunity afforded by Eren’s exclamation to look away and pretends surprise. She’s not even sure if that’s the right reaction because she’s not even sure if this is genuine news, or something meant to flush her out. If the former, how should she, as Eren’s girlfriend who has a civil relationship with Mikasa at best, react? Interest? Indifference? Should she be snarky? Or happy? And if it’s the latter instead, then she can’t help but wonder if it was her actions during Mikasa’s birthday that really tipped him off. Her insistence to be dropped off at the station, and her lack of care in seeing her sleepy boyfriend home. She should have been more careful, but she was too eager to get back to Mikasa’s place.

“Who?” Eren asks.

Indeed who. That will tell her if this is genuine or a flush. She looks back at Armin, and thankfully, he has shifted his focus to Eren.

Armin shakes his head. “I don’t know. It’s just a suspicion.”

Even knowing Armin isn’t looking at her, she doesn’t let her shoulders sag, or sigh in relief, or anything.

“Huh. Based on?” Eren prods.

“Doesn’t she seem different nowadays? A bit more cheery?”

Eren scowls in thought. “No? She’s just as she normally is.”

“I think you don’t pay as much attention to her intricacies, Eren,” Armin replies with a smile. “But demeanor aside, what really stood out was her house.”

At the mention of Mikasa’s house, Armin’s eyes once again slides over to her, the timing so curious it has to be deliberate. She doesn’t show anything, she knows she’s not showing anything, but still she finds his scrutiny unnerving, that he might be reading something even from her lack of reaction. He must know something, or have good reason to be sure of his suspicion of her. That it has only been two days since Mikasa’s birthday seals the deal that it had been something he observed then.

“Her house? What about it?”

He turns back to Eren again, continuing on as usual. “It feels as though she’s been having a frequent guest. There’s more food around than usual, more drinks in the fridge too, and there’s even coffee, which Mikasa doesn’t fancy herself.”

Under the table, Annie digs her nails into her palm.

“That is unusual. When did you notice that?”

“On Friday, when we went to her house for her birthday,” Armin answers. “I was there earlier than you two and I used her kitchen to make final preparations of the food.”

“Then couldn’t it just be because we were coming over?” Eren suggests.

“Perhaps,” Armin says, shrugging. “Like I said, it’s a suspicion. But something feels off about her place.”

“Off?”

Armin leans back on his chair, as though contemplating how to explain. “All houses are different, because after a while, it takes on the characteristic of its occupants. Your place for example, Eren, has a very Eren-feel to it but the moment Annie started coming over a lot and staying over too, then the feel changes. It became an Eren plus Annie feel. That’s what I meant. Mikasa’s place has that Mikasa plus someone else feel.”

That’s precisely the reason why she used to only go straight to the bedroom whenever she goes to Mikasa’s place. Because she didn’t want to disturb anything else around the house. But that was also before she started going over just to hang out, and now they’ve had sex in the living room, and she’s even stayed the night. That’s definitely going to affect something.

“Maybe like you said, on Friday she was preparing for us, so that might have muddled the feel of her place. But we arrived together today, right? It’s because I dropped by hers just before to pick up the stew pot I left at her place on Friday. And I still got that feeling, in fact it was even stronger. Like someone has just recently been there.”

Annie feels a chill over the back of her neck and she clenches her fists even tighter. She has been so, so careless. Either she should have allowed Armin to drop her home or not stayed the night in Mikasa’s place but now she’s left too many clues. And that’s not even including who knows what else he may have picked up over time. Of course he’s suspicious. She would be too in face of these ‘coincidences’.

“I guess I really don’t pay attention to all these stuff,” Eren says. “Why not just ask her?”

Armin chuckles lightly. “Eren, you know Mikasa. She’ll tell us when she’s ready and not a word before that. Although, do you know anything, Annie?”

She freezes at her name, and she has to force herself to unclench her fists, to relax her shoulders and glance up as naturally as she can to the two pairs of eyes on her. “Me? Why would you think I would know anything?”

“It might be easier for her to talk about these things to a friend rather than family. And you’re both female,” Armin answers, explaining his reasoning.

“That’s true. Seems like a girl talk topic,” Eren agrees, nodding his head.

She shakes hers, hoping it isn’t jerky or overeager. “No way. We’re not close at all. And we only ever interact when either of you are around. When would we ever talk about that?”

“Really?” Armin replies in surprise. Feigned surprise most likely. “It seemed as though you two have gotten a bit closer since we started having lunches together. You two never hung out just the two of you?”

“Yeah, I mean, I saw that Mikasa had an active chat with you on her phone,” Eren adds. “I thought too that both of you might have started getting along better since you know...after Christmas.”

Armin clearly doesn’t know that, and his eyes widen a little more at the new information. It makes something buzz at the back of her head. “Oh that,” she says, injecting as much nonchalance as she can muster into her voice. “She does come over sometimes, to give me stuff and sometimes she gives me lifts. So yeah, we do talk sometimes, and it’s not as tense as it used to be before, but that’s about it. She wouldn’t tell me about personal things.”

Eren accepts her explanation easily, seemingly ready to drop the topic as he leans back and stretches his arms. Armin keeps his eyes on her for just a while longer before finally he nods, getting up and taking all three of their glasses with him to the sink.

“Well, if you do hear of anything, then let us know. Mikasa can be too secretive sometimes.”

When she leaves Eren’s place later, she doesn’t even stop to see if it’s been half an hour, or survey the cars outside. Armin is here today, meaning Mikasa wouldn’t have waited, and plus she’s still using the ‘business with Bertholdt’ excuse to not stick around so as proof, Bertholdt is there to pick her up. She goes straight into the front passenger seat of his personal jeep, and he takes one look at her face to realize something’s wrong.

“Did something happen?” he asks.

She sends a text to Mikasa first, waiting for him to pull out of the block. _Armin suspects something._ And only once they’re on the road and away from perceived threats does she tell him what happened. He heaves a heavy sigh when she’s done.

“I hate to point out the obvious but perhaps you should break it off first? It would be far worse if Eren finds out from Armin.”

“I know that.”

“Armin is just suspecting, right? He doesn’t have proof. If you act first then you can cover up Mikasa’s involvement entirely. Then at least you can spare her.”

“I know,” she snaps.

Bertholdt turns to look at her, perplexed. “What’s holding you back? Isn’t things dangerous as it is?”

Her phone vibrates with a beep, delivering Mikasa’s reply. _Don’t come over for a while. I won’t go over either._ The way Mikasa worded that, without even asking any questions, probably means that Mikasa has already figured something is up. Maybe Armin asked too many questions, or maybe he snooped around the house a bit too much. Whatever it is, they now have to keep a distance. And of all the things that could happen, this is probably the worst. She sighs, stashing her phone back into her pocket. The issue isn’t breaking up with Eren, which she has thought of multiple times. But it isn’t as simple as just breaking things off either, because for one, she still hasn’t spoken properly to Mikasa after the staying over incident.

Mikasa was behaving rather oddly that morning, which, in hindsight now that Annie has had time to think it over, is possibly due to it being Mikasa’s first time having a morning after with anyone. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that Mikasa is inexperienced, that the only other time she has woken up with someone in her bed was after a drunken night that she can’t even remember. So Mikasa may have seemed put together, but inside her emotions are probably all over the place. That’s the only thing Annie can think of to explain how inconsistent Mikasa was, and why Mikasa was murdering the cake. So it had been a good idea to give Mikasa some space, but that space is only good if she eventually closes it again. Indefinite space too often becomes insurmountable distance. That's why they need to work things out. Now they can’t. And this isn’t the sort of conversation to have through text, or even a call, which they don’t do anyway.

Perhaps she really shouldn’t have spent the night. If she had gone home like Mikasa intended, then surely right now they’d just be their usual selves. There would be no issue with having to keep their distance either, it’s something they’ve done before multiple times. But something has shifted with her staying over. She can’t say for certain what it is, whether their intimacy, or the broken boundary, or the other boundaries all pushed to within an inch of breaking. What she’s certain of is that there’s something different that morning, and it’s not something that can be addressed with them holding hands or with the implied answers from actions. At the end of the day, things need to be said. Perhaps it’s more right then to say she’s glad to have spent the night, but not so for not being able to talk about it.

So at this juncture, if she breaks up with Eren, what happens to them? Where are they at with each other after that night? Will they be over too, or is there possibility for something more? That’s the damn issue. Not breaking up, but the timing of it. Because she has just seen that sliver of possessiveness from Mikasa, that sliver that if given time and coaxing, could become something more. And yet now is the time that this decides to happen? That’s not even the biggest issue with the timing either.

She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I can’t. Not right now. The timing is really bad.”

“The timing?”

“I met Eren in November, but we only actually started dating at the end of February.”

Bertholdt grimaces, understanding. “That’s in two weeks.”

“Exactly. Can you imagine? Hey Eren, it’s been a year. Let’s break up.” Instantly she frowns and shakes her head. “No. I can’t do that to him.”

“Then when? It’s yours and his birthdays in March. The timing doesn’t seem right there either. How long will you wait?”

She takes a deep breath, and places her hand over her phone in her pocket. Mikasa has decided her course of action. She has no choice but to follow. “Until the time is right I guess. Mikasa and I just won’t meet privately for the time being, then Armin won’t have anything to go on. That’s the only way for now.”

For now ends up being far longer than she expects, however. And it is vexing to not be able to spend time with Mikasa as she usually does, to only be able to see Mikasa while in Eren or Armin’s presence where she has to pretend anyway. Mikasa takes it further, not even waiting after Sunday dinners anymore and while she gets it, it’s also incredibly frustrating. All she wants is to be able to talk to Mikasa, just the two of them, just once, to finally address what went on with them after that night. The thing that shifted, it feels like a double edged sword, like it could be a force that would bring them closer, but also a force that could set them apart. And what determines if it is one or the other, is whether they talk about it.

At this rate, especially with the risk of Armin discovering them, it feels like Mikasa will simply retreat. That she will silence that possessive part of her, and revert to how she was at the beginning when she just yielded to Eren at every turn. If it was a decision Mikasa came to on her own, then Annie would respect that. But if it is a decision made simply because they hadn’t a chance to talk it out, because someone else is poking around, then she definitely doesn’t want to accept that. She doesn’t know who she’s more irritated at. Herself for messing up, or Armin for being as observant as he is. When two weeks pass without an opportunity and Mikasa further bails out from lunches with Armin, she thinks that maybe she’s actually irritated at Mikasa. Because even if they cannot meet, Mikasa could at least communicate her intentions via text.

“So Mikasa says she won’t be joining us for lunches anymore. Do you know what going on?” Armin asks.

She has half a mind to also drop lunches with him, but that would be too suspicious. “I told you she doesn’t tell me anything.” And to think, she’s actually telling the truth this time.

Armin frowns, but it doesn’t seem to be directed at her, more at himself. “Hmm...was I wrong?”

“Wrong about what?”

He snaps up, looking at her with a smile. “Ah, just mumbling to myself. Don’t worry about it.”

Whatever it is Mikasa is doing on her end, it seems to be working but apparently, it’s still not enough. Mikasa still doesn’t want to meet privately and so the situation continues on like this, with Sundays being the only time now that she can see Mikasa. Even then, Mikasa is painfully civil, doesn’t make eye contact with her even when Eren is so obviously not paying attention, and of course, she leaves pretty much the moment dinner is done. It almost feels like what Mikasa did once before, way back, when she removed herself from Annie’s presence in order to curb Annie’s then growing desire for her. It didn’t work then, and it sure as hell isn’t ‘curbing’ anything now either.

And when Eren, despite knowing her feelings towards anniversaries, despite knowing she wasn’t thrilled about the previous surprise, surprises her anyway during their real anniversary with a homemade dinner and a potted succulent-which she has at one point expressed is cute, and which is obvious is his idea of flowers without being overt about it-she’s had enough. It’s not much at all, but it adds significance at a point where it shouldn’t be added. His birthday is at the end of March, and she’s just counting days. But Mikasa, Mikasa at least, she needs to know where they’re at. On the third Sunday since Armin’s unfortunate announcement, she corners Mikasa in the kitchen while Eren is in the washroom. She grabs Mikasa’s arm, but Mikasa yanks it back.

“What are you doing?” Mikasa hisses lowly, eyes darting to where the washroom is.

“Can we talk?” Annie presses, trying not to be bothered by Mikasa’s rejection of her touch.

“Not now.”

She feels her irritation grow. “Then when? We’ve been at this for three weeks, Mikasa.”

Mikasa doesn’t look at her, keeping her eyes and ears to the bathroom door. “That’s a long time to you? We’ve been going on behind Eren’s back for months, Annie.”

She knows she should be worried about the door too, but she needs answers more than anything right now. “How much longer does this have to go on?”

“I don’t know! For as long as it takes. Three weeks isn’t going suddenly make this okay, or make Armin just forget his suspicions.”

“I get that. I’m not asking for things to go back to how they were. I just want to talk once!”

Mikasa finally turns to her at that, and the look she gets is so many things at once. Anger, exasperation, helplessness, and with a sigh through gritted teeth Mikasa steers them to the other side of the kitchen, where they can’t see the bathroom door. They’ll hear the door, but Eren won’t see them before they do.

“Fine, talk.”

Numerous protest rises to her throat because here, now, the two minutes or less before Eren will inevitably come out is absolutely not the right time. But none of those words, or the things she actually wants to say, leaves her mouth as she stares into Mikasa’s eyes, as she realizes that none of those words are the right things to say. For her, Armin’s suspicions is a source of dread and annoyance at most, a thorn in her side at the worst possible time making things more complicated than they need be. But in Mikasa’s eyes she sees fear and guilt. Mikasa has truly been spooked by Armin’s snooping, and is retreating so completely entirely because of this.

Of course. If they are found out, she will always have the option of simply breaking up and cutting herself off from Eren. But Mikasa can never have that option. Mikasa will not even want it. It’s likely, that ever since she sent that text to Mikasa confirming that Armin is on to something, Mikasa has been panicking. Doing all she can to sidetrack him. Beating herself up for allowing things to come this far. Bertholdt is right. She should end it sooner rather than later so she can take the heat off of Mikasa, so that she can divert the attention to herself. But instead, all she’s been thinking of is what would happen to them after the break up, what is going on with them right now after that night, what she could do to make Mikasa want this more, the terrible timing in which this is happening and how irritated she is at Mikasa’s distancing. Not once did it cross her mind how badly this is affecting Mikasa. How badly it could affect Mikasa.

Of course. She’s selfish like that. Always have been. And Mikasa knows it too.

“Well? Aren’t you going to say anything?” Mikasa seethes.

She falters, sensing the anger permeating from Mikasa. She drops her gaze, shaking her head. “No, never mind. Sorry.”

For a moment Mikasa just stands there, and she wonders what’s going through Mikasa’s head. Whether she’s regretting being so harsh or she’s deliberating whether to be harsher. But eventually Mikasa storms right out of the kitchen, and just before the bathroom door opens. She shuts up about wanting to talk after that and just counts the days. Mikasa may be protecting herself first and foremost, but in doing so, she’s also protecting Annie. And if Annie isn’t even thinking to extend the same to Mikasa, then she doesn’t deserve Mikasa’s efforts.

“At this point, it can no longer be painless for any of you,” Bertholdt tells her.

She looks at him manning the counter from her seat behind it. “That’s true from the start. There was never a point where it would have been painless. It would probably only hurt less, and only one person. Maybe.”

“Do you wish you ended it there?”

“It would have been simpler,” she sighs, pulling her legs up to herself. “But, it’s only because I didn’t do that that I got to know Mikasa at all. That I fell for her. I can’t regret that.”

Bertholdt turns to smile at her comfortingly. “Is she still not talking to you?”

She shakes her head at that. “I’m staying away too. She’s...she’s angry. And I don’t know how to deal with it. Nothing good ever comes when we try to talk while either of us is angry. We just end up pissing each other off even more.”

“Then what happens after that? How does it end?”

“How does it end?” she repeats with a slight frown, but then she get the question. “Oh, she backs down I guess. She apologizes. Or we just give it some time.”

“So what should you do when she’s angry?”

She rolls her eyes at him. “You’re treating me like a child. I know that, but I can’t apologize for what she’s angry about, can I? What good does it do? It won’t solve this shit.”

He keeps up his smile, going over to take a seat next to her. There seems to be a lull in the patrons anyway that he can afford to take some time. But as he settles in, she gives him a pointed look to head off any attempts from him to pat her head. He then keeps his hands dutifully on his knees.

“Sometimes, even though saying sorry doesn’t fix anything, or if you can’t even properly express the depth of the things you’re sorry about, saying it still informs the other party of how you feel. It informs them that you’re remorseful. And if there is a genuine reason they’re upset, then they’ll understand. So I do not believe that there is no value in letting your feelings be known.”

She stares at him, at his meaningful words, and then she nudges him with her shoulder. “What have you been reading?”

He chuckles. “Books on how to be a wise old man.”

She snorts, but any reply she might have is pushed aside by the internal door connected to the kitchen opening before them.

“Oy Bert,” Reiner calls as he enters the counter area, stopping short when he sees Bertholdt and her sitting together. “Annie? When did you get here? Why didn’t anyone tell me?” His chagrin at how he had no idea she’s been there for close to an hour now is amusing to see. But then he takes a seat and join them too, the lull in customers meaning he has some time as well. He crosses his arms and scrutinizes them both. “Why am I getting the feeling like I’ve been excluded?”

Bertholdt immediately excuses himself to man the empty counter. She rolls her eyes again, tossing a paper ball at his back. Then she turns to Reiner. “No one is excluding you. You were just in the kitchen, that’s all.”

“Really?” he says, raising an eyebrow skeptically. But she doesn’t budge, meeting his eyes with her own glare, and eventually he sighs. “Well okay. Come to think of it though, you’ve been coming around quite often lately. Trouble in paradise?”

Reiner phrases the last question in a half joking, half serious manner and from her periphery, she sees Bertholdt’s shoulders stiffening. She has to wonder how, when he’s that obvious, has he kept her secret all this time. Her shoulders have gone stiff too, but at least she has her back against the chair.

“Why do you always tie my presence here to that?” she questions in return.

He shrugs. “You stopped coming here when you first got together with Eren, so what else am I supposed to think from your sudden frequent appearance?”

“That I miss you?”

“Aw, embracing your mushiness, are you?” Reiner beams, extending both his arms in an attempt to hug. She swiftly karate chops his wrists. “Ow!”

“Don’t push it,” she warns.

He soothes his wrists in faux sulkiness. “You are really uncute sometimes,” he teases. “Maybe that’s why it took you so long to get into a proper relationship. Eren must have strange tastes.”

“Rei—Reiner!” Bertholdt calls out abruptly. “Don’t you need to get back to the kitchen?”

“Huh?” Reiner rears his head up, looking over the counter into the restaurant grounds. “Did new customers arrive?”

“No, but just to...well, make sure everything is going fine?”

“What? I’m sure if the kitchen’s burning someone will let me know,” Reiner frowns, and she takes the opportunity to shoot a small smile followed by a shake of her head to Bertholdt, grateful for his efforts but that it’s fine. Bertholdt promptly keeps him mouth shut. Reiner blinks, clearly confused, but he doesn’t let that distract him. “So anyway, as I was saying, trouble in paradise? It’s just hit the one year mark, right? That’s a milestone.”

Thankfully, she remembers exactly what he told her before about this topic. “Yes, it’s just hit one year. As for the rest of your question, mind your own business, Reiner.”

He smiles, clearly remembering it too. “All right, all right. No prying for me.”

She does wonder however, in light of what Bertholdt told her about the both of them and their subtle matchmaking of her and Eren, if she really would receive another fix-it solution if she brought up a random problem. She’s almost tempted to try too, but no, it wouldn’t be right to let him misinterpret what is going on, or to use her relationship with Eren like that. He most definitely would have a lot to say once the truth comes out though, so she supposes she can witness it then.

“Let’s try another question then,” Reiner starts again, and she eagerly latches on to the subject change. “I hear Eren wants to throw you a birthday party.”

“Mine and his together,” she corrects. “They’re only eight days apart after all.”

“Right. And it’s going to be in a bar?”

She nods. “The one he used to work in. Since he knows the owner, he reserved the entire place for one night.”

“Nice! Talk about workplace perks. Why’d he stop working there?” Reiner asks.

“He has a really low tolerance for alcohol.”

Reiner barks out a laugh. “Really? No wonder I haven’t ever seen him drink much. Well, sounds like it’ll be a fun party. Looking forward to it.”

So is she. She’s counting the days to it. Once that’s done, there are still a few more days after, because they’re holding the party in between hers and his birthdays, so after his actual birthday, and maybe a week or two more as buffer, then she can finally put an end to this. And this time, she’ll do the right thing. Because Mikasa is right. Armin will never un-notice the things he has, no matter how long they keep apart. The moment he sees something, his suspicions will just come back in full force. So their relationship will never be able to go back to the way it was before. Which is just as well. They both know from the start that it has to end at some point, that it cannot go on forever. Might as well be now, while she still has the chance to choose how to end it. So enough selfishness. Put Mikasa first, spare her the pain, and end this. What happens afterwards, is afterwards.

So she counts the days.

She hadn’t realized until now, how much Mikasa has become a part of her life. It’s not even the distance and separation that bothers her, or the free time she suddenly has, or the sex she’s not having. They’ve done periods of distance before, whenever Mikasa goes into detachment or whenever Eren expects her to be around a lot. It’s because this time, Mikasa actually wants the distance and separation. It’s because their feelings are now at a disconnect. It’s because there is no guarantee of something to be gained, or resumed, after the separation. It’s because this has to happen now, just after the progress she felt they made on Mikasa’s birthday. She dreams of it often, of all the things that happened that night. And she’ll wake in the morning with phantom sensations of Mikasa touching her so intimately, of Mikasa’s heat on her thigh, of Mikasa’s fingers intertwined with hers, and the knowledge that she has to stay away, that she cannot seek Mikasa for relief, that maybe they’re just over, that’s what bothers her. The loss of what it could have become, that is what leaves her feeling empty and hollow.

When the day of the party rolls around, she is almost relieved. Now she’s one step closer to the end, maybe the end of them too, but it also means no more pretending. No more cheating. It prevents a worst outcome. And maybe after, she’ll finally be able to work things out with Mikasa so she takes whatever solace she can from there. It helps mask the hurt and disappointment when on her actual birthday, the only thing she got from Mikasa is a text saying happy birthday and nothing else. Perhaps they’ll be able to share some words once the bar fills up, once they’re surrounded by a mass of people as their cover, but she doesn’t hope too hard for it. It would be pathetic to hinge her mood entirely on Mikasa after all.

The party starts up slowly, and fills up slowly too. To her surprise, Mikasa isn’t even there yet when she and Eren arrive together as the birthday persons, so the first half an hour at least is her introducing the rest of her friends to Eren. She’s not thrilled about the further widening of the social circle, but considering that most of her ‘friends’ are college acquaintances at best who are really here because Reiner invited them rather than being any persons of significance to her, and the fact that she’s probably not going to see these people again until next year, or never, it’s not too much of a problem. But through the growing crowd, she spots a couple who actually are her friends, or at least, she actually has their contact numbers. They spot her too, and immediately one bounces right over.

“Annie! Happy birthday, girl!” Hitch exclaims, already hugging her before she could react. But as she’s dislodging herself to introduce Hitch to Eren next to her, Hitch once again beats her to it before she could get a word out. Keeping one arm wrapped around her shoulder despite her attempts to dislodge, Hitch smirks at Eren. “You must be the boyfriend. I’m Hitch Dreyse, Annie’s college dorm mate. And former benefits friend.”

Annie almost chokes. Only Hitch would ever think to say that during an introduction. And judging by Eren’s startled look, it had the desired effect. “Hitch—”

Hitch is suddenly pulled away from her, and she sees a hand holding on to Hitch’s arm in a firm grip.

“Hitch,” Marlowe reprimands, “why would you say something like that?” Then he turns to look down at her with a smile. “Happy belated birthday, Annie.” She nods. He is as towering as she remembers, and he turns now to Eren, extending his other hand. “You must be Eren. I’m Marlowe Freudenberg, Annie’s friend from college.”

Eren takes his hand, relaxing a little. “Eren Yeager. Nice to meet you, Marlowe. And you too, Hitch.”

Hitch smirks wider. “Likewise. I wasn’t kidding, by the way.”

Eren only looks stumped again in return. “Oh, um...”

Marlowe ends up interceding once more, giving Hitch’s arm another tug before changing the subject. Somehow, he manages to get Eren to take him to the bar to get drinks, and also introduce him to his friends. Marlowe looks back at Hitch. “Coming along?”

“Later,” Hitch replies. “Get me a drink though.”

Annie watches Hitch watching Marlowe go as she raises her eyebrows. Something about them feels different from the moment she saw them, which she initially attributed to the simple fact that it’s been a while since they last met. But the way Hitch is looking at Marlowe, she knows that look. And so she’s fairly certain she can’t be wrong. “You two are a couple.”

Hitch actually turns sheepish at her statement, which is a confirmation in itself. “Well, yes. That’s true.”

She almost cannot believe it. Because it’s Hitch. “I didn’t think Marlowe was your type.”

“He wasn’t,” Hitch agrees, snickering. “I mean, you know him. So straight laced. And with that bowl cut too. He wouldn’t even have sex with me until we got together,” she says as though the very notion is scandalous. “But I guess no one ever knows these things. One day I just realized that I wasn’t teasing him just for fun.”

Hitch’s face takes on an almost soft glow as she speaks of Marlowe, and Annie wonders if that glow is the same one Bertholdt saw on her when she spoke to him about Mikasa. Because like Bertholdt, she’s never seen this expression on Hitch before, and she finds she can’t feel anything but happy for her. It’s a situation that sounds much like hers too, in that she never expected to feel for Mikasa like this. One day she woke up, and everything is just different. If only unexpected is the worse of their issues.

“I’m happy for you, Hitch.”

Hitch immediately scowls. “What is with this so unlike you dialogue?”

She shrugs helplessly. “I am.”

“Got a man and it turned you mellow, huh?” Hitch teases, and then she wraps her arm around Annie’s shoulder again. “Well come on. Let’s get something to drink. There’s apparently a free flow of beer. And you can tell me all about him.”

Hitch’s grip is vice, and she finds herself forcibly dragged along unless she’s willing to twist some wrists. It’s not like she wants to talk about Eren, her boyfriend only for another month at most, but it’s not like she has anything else to do either, so she goes along. She’ll just have to steer Hitch into talking about Marlowe instead. It flies by her notice then, when Mikasa finally arrives, only that she’s on her second beer when suddenly Mikasa is there, with Sasha, Connie and Jean in tow, wishing her happy birthday and giving her presents. She accepts them graciously, introduces them to Hitch who doesn’t mess around this time, and then the group is gone.

She ends up not having the chance to speak to Mikasa after all, just as she predicted. Not because there isn’t a crowd big enough to cover them, or even her awareness that Armin might be watching, but because for some reason or the other, Mikasa stays with the group she arrived with all night. She cycles through several groups herself throughout the night, first with Hitch and Marlowe, and then briefly with her other college acquaintances, and then settling down with Reiner and Bertholdt, before finally rejoining Eren, and still Mikasa hasn’t once left her initial group. Something about it makes her uneasy even as she can’t quite pinpoint what exactly it is, but there are no answers she can figure out on her own, so she puts it aside, reminding herself not to stare and simply stay by Eren’s side.

Eren is quieter than usual, however, nursing his third beer, although the colour of his face tells her that he might have had something stronger before this. Despite that his eyes don’t waver as they fixedly stare at a certain point in the room and when she follows it she finds that it is Mikasa’s table at the corner. Sasha and Connie are nowhere to be seen, though the dance floor is likely, leaving just Mikasa with Jean at the table. Her sense of uneasiness balloons, and she bites her cheek as she watches the two seemingly engrossed in conversation, with Mikasa leaning in to hear Jean over all the noise and the music. Jean then scoots closer and Annie takes a deep breath.

“Maybe it’s Jean.”

Eren’s voice snaps her out of her death glare as she realizes she’s also death gripping her beer mug. She releases her hold and exhales, but luckily Eren is still looking at Mikasa’s table. “What are you talking about?”

Eren turns to her. “Remember what Armin said? That Mikasa is seeing someone? Maybe it’s Jean.”

She turns to look at the table again, but nothing has changed. Jean is still sitting closer than she feels is necessary, and he and Mikasa are both still engrossed in conversation. Her throat tightens up and she takes another deep breath to keep it open. “Just because they’re talking?”

“No, not just that...ah, right. You don’t know,” Eren says, and she raises an eyebrow at his claim of something that she doesn’t know. The way he’s talking, she’s not sure she wants to know. But Eren simply keeps going, unaware of her thoughts. “Jean likes Mikasa. Has always had the biggest crush on her since our college days. He’s probably in love with her.”

She death grips the mug again. “Oh. He is?”

“Yeah. She never returned the interest though,” he nods, taking a swig of his beer. “Although,” he adds with a chuckle, “the funniest thing is, he had a real shot with her once, if not for a string of bad luck. They’ve slept together once you know.”

Her uneasiness spikes further, and now there’s a bitter taste too at the back of her throat. Clenching and unclenching her fists, she tells herself to remain calm as she steals a peek at the table. So it’s Jean. “What happened?”

“Hm? Oh, with Mikasa?” It seems she’s right that he’s had something stronger, as his voice is slurring just slightly. “She and Jean are both English majors in college, and at the end of their last semester there was a party for all the language majors. So neither I nor Armin was there right? But she went for it! Jean must have been thrilled. Anyway, he got her some drinks and let me tell you, Mikasa can drink. And she’s really conscious of her body’s reactions, like she’ll know when she’s about to get sick even before the symptoms show, that sort of thing. So when she drank that drink, she immediately knew something was wrong.”

She tenses, already seeing where this is going. Mikasa said she doesn’t remember a thing of how her first time went because she was so drunk when it happened, but no matter how drunk she was, total memory loss seems unlikely. Unless— “It was spiked? Did he spike it?”

Eren slaps his hand on the counter. “That’s what I thought too! I was so angry, and so ready to beat the life out of him, but no, Mikasa said it wasn’t Jean. She watched him picking up the drinks and bringing it over. There wasn’t a chance for him to tamper with it. What really convinced me is that Jean got really woozy after he drank his drink too. There’s no sense in spiking his own drink so it’s either they got the spiked drinks by accident, or it was intentional to get Jean out of the way and get to Mikasa. Or it could be the other way round honestly. Someone wanted to get to Jean and make sure Mikasa stays out of the way.”

“Jean had a lot of admirers?”

“Enemies, more like. He’s always been a bit of an arrogant ass, so maybe someone wanted to teach him a lesson?” he says, taking another gulp of his beer as she grimaces at what the ‘lesson’ would have been. “Anyway, doesn’t matter. Nothing like that happened. Mikasa noticed immediately that something was wrong and got them both out of there. Jean’s place at that time was pretty close by, so she managed to get them there but everything after that, neither of them remembers. When they woke up in the morning though, it’s clear that they had sex. So regardless of how it happened, Jean had slept with his crush. He could easily just confess and turn that into a relationship, right?”

Annie frowns at that, not quite agreeing with Eren’s logic. Because if Mikasa doesn’t like Jean in the same way, wouldn’t any relationship that forms in the aftermath of their drugged sex be more of an obligation or an effort to make worth an event that they’re not responsible for? Then she freezes, sensing the bitterness in her throat swell as she suddenly realizes that the same can be said about her current relationship with Mikasa. Because while Mikasa wasn’t unwilling at the start, she sure as hell didn’t like it, yet they continue. What if continuing, and that it’s becoming more and more like a relationship, is Mikasa’s way of making worth out of situation she doesn’t like? She tries to swallow the bitterness, releasing the breath she’s holding, and glances at Mikasa across the room.

But surely Mikasa wouldn’t do that. She looks back at Eren before her. “Why didn’t that happen?”

“Well, two things, mostly. First, there was a rumor going around at the time that Jean is gay, like 100% gay. And the funniest part is that he himself was unaware of this rumor going around, so after what happened, Mikasa actually felt really bad that she slept with him, that he’d be troubled over having slept with a girl,” Eren answers with a laugh. “I bet the only thing that troubled Jean is that he can’t remember what they did.” He downs the rest of the beer in his mug and sighs. “Then the second thing is that they had unprotected sex. So Mikasa was really distressed over the possibility that she could have gotten pregnant. And she would have kept it, she made that clear. So she really wasn’t in the right state for Jean to confess his feelings, and putting aside the fact that I disagree with him on many things, Jean’s a decent guy. He knew that too. So he kept his feelings out of it and instead told her he’d take responsibility and take care of her and the baby.”

“But she didn’t get pregnant.” Of course, otherwise there would be a Mikasa Jr. somewhere.

“Yup, obviously. After about a month it became clear that she wasn’t, so she told Jean that there was no longer any need for him to stick around, because she was still under the impression that he’s gay, and that he’s doing it all because of responsibility. So she honestly though she was freeing him from it. She told him he’s a great friend, that she really appreciates all that he’s done, that she’s glad it was him she accidentally slept with, all that basically. And after that, Jean said that he couldn’t tell the truth. It was awkward or something, because she thought so highly of him,” Eren explains with a shrug. “Eventually Jean caught wind of that rumor and corrected it, that he’s 100% straight, but I don’t think Mikasa made the connection.”

He signals the bartender for another mug, and she has half a mind to stop him, because it’s already seeming like he won’t be able to get home on his own later, but instead she turns to the table to look at the pair. She has never gotten the sense that Mikasa and Jean are in any way close, but there is history, and there are feelings. That is more than enough to cross the distance. She watches, while emptying her own mug of beer, as Sasha and Connie return to the table. But instead of sitting down, they each take hold of one of the seated two and pulls them up, apparently encouraging them to dance.

“Oh, they’re dancing,” Eren remarks, which is quite impressive considering his state of sobriety. Evidently, he’s sober enough to also smile at what he sees. “Well, if Jean is really the person Mikasa is dating, then that’s good. She deserves someone who cares for her like he does.”

And not someone who’s selfish like her, probably. She exhales heavily, turning her gaze away when Jean wraps an arm around Mikasa’s waist after several awkward bumps and drifts. Letting her empty mug hit the counter loudly, she looks to Eren. “Want to dance too?”

It turns out she’s right about his state of sobriety, for he lasts only about ten minutes on the dance floor where it’s less dance, and more leaning on her for support while making out to the cheers and whistles of the crowd, before they have to bow out. She sits him at the bar for the rest of the night but unfortunately, she couldn’t prevent him from imbibing any more alcohol when the bartender offers both him and her a drink on the house. Her, a Jager Bomb, because. And him, she doesn't know. Something blue, probably because of her eyes. By the end of it, he’s positively drunk, and she has to have Reiner help carry him to the exit. That’s when Mikasa finally, finally, leaves Jean’s side and comes around.

“I’ll take him home,” Mikasa states, already taking Eren from Reiner. And then Armin appears as well, and Mikasa turns to him. “Armin, can you make sure everything wraps up over here?”

“Of course. Don’t worry. You just take Eren home,” he replies.

Reiner, freed of his load, looks to her instead. “And what about you Annie? I think Bert and I will stick around, help Armin out in wrapping everything up on your behalf so you can leave if you want. Eren’s out cold too, so you shouldn’t need to do any work either.”

“Thanks Reiner,” she says, watching Armin helping Mikasa carry Eren to her car. “I’ll be going then.” And then she jogs over to the trio and grabs the door handle that Armin was just about to grab. “Let me,” she says to him. “I’ll accompany Eren home.”

She briefly wonders, as she’s sitting in the front passenger seat, if that was a good idea. But Mikasa agreed easily, and the few times she caught sight of Armin in the bar, just like Eren, he seems far more preoccupied watching Mikasa and Jean rather than watching her. It seems they were all watching Mikasa and Jean. All wondering the same thing. But she knows that isn’t true. She stares at Mikasa as she drives, remembers her and Jean sitting close together, remembers Jean’s arm around her waist, remembers Eren’s story, and she shuts her eyes with a sigh. It isn’t true, but she can’t make that uneasy feeling, the feeling that she now has a name for, go away.

Instead, she glances behind to where Eren is belted in on the backseat, his head leaning on the door. She can’t tell if he’s sleeping, or semi-conscious, or fully conscious but trying to sleep, but she errs on the side of caution, and assumes that he will be able to hear anything said. Now is not the time to talk, but at least she has this moment in the car. It’s familiar, and comforting, and it doesn’t matter that Mikasa is being her usual conscientious self, it doesn’t matter that Mikasa hasn’t so much as looked her way even once. That Mikasa agreed so easily to have her come along, she can only assume that Mikasa wants this moment too.

“I’ll drop you off first,” Mikasa speaks up suddenly.

She looks from Eren to Mikasa. “Isn’t his place closer? I can help you get him inside.”

Mikasa shakes her head. “I’m taking him to my place, or staying over at his, I haven’t decided. I’m not leaving him alone though, and I’ll need to make him something for the massive hangover he’s bound to have tomorrow.”

That has her glancing back again. Mikasa’s doing her mothering thing, which Eren hates, so if he’s even semi-conscious, he would be retorting right about now. But he hasn’t moved from his previous position. And she isn’t taking chances. “Eren.” He doesn’t stir. She tries again, a little louder. “Eren.”

“What are you doing?” Mikasa asks with the slightest note of irritation. “Is there something you absolutely must say to him now? He’s asleep, even if he wakes, I doubt he’s going to remember what you said. So wait until tomorrow.”

Mikasa surely knows better than her about Eren’s reaction to alcohol, so Annie takes her word for it. That, and she certainly doesn’t want to exacerbate that irritation. She turns back to the front and settles into her seat. “He knows his tolerance is weak. Why did he drink so much?”

“It’s his birthday party. He can be a bit indulgent.”

“It’s my birthday party too. Can I be indulgent?”

Mikasa’s brow creases and her answer is tentative. “Of course you can.”

She’ll have to see about that. “I heard about you and Jean.” Just saying his name makes her think of it all again, of them sitting close together, of them dancing together, and that feeling that won’t go away flares up.

Mikasa’s eyes slide over to her. Just briefly. Because the car is still in motion. “You did?”

“Yeah. Eren told me,” she replies. “He also said it’s good if you two are dating. That you deserve someone like Jean.” She tries to keep the uneasiness out of her voice, but it does come out a little biting, particularly around Jean’s name. Mikasa doesn’t respond in any intelligible way however, she only hums, which can mean so many things and nothing at the same time. Annie takes in a breath. “So Jean was your first.”

This time Mikasa nods. “Yes.”

But that is the only answer Mikasa offers and it does nothing to halt her uneasiness from swelling, to wash that bitterness from her throat. Rationally she knows that Mikasa’s silence doesn’t necessarily mean anything, because there is nothing going on with her and Jean, so there is nothing to say. Jean is a cover, Mikasa doesn’t need to tell her that for her to figure it out, and seeing how much Armin is watching them it’s working. So she knows that, but the silence makes her doubt. It makes her question what if? Because there is history, and there are feelings, and Jean is a far better person than her, and Mikasa is well aware of that too. Rationality amounts to nothing in the face of this what if. In Mikasa’s silence, her doubt grows deafening.

She shifts in her seat, hating this. She should be enjoying this moment she has, she _wants_ to enjoy this moment she has, but the doubt clouds over everything else. If only Mikasa would offer something else. Reassurance, perhaps. But maybe Mikasa doesn’t see the sense in doing that. Because like she herself figured, maybe it should be obvious that Jean is a cover, so there’s no need to explain it. There is no need to offer reassurance. That doesn’t mean that she doesn’t need it, or that she can’t seek it out on her own. She drops her gaze to where one of Mikasa’s hands rest on the gear. It doesn’t need to be there as it’s an automatic car. Maybe it’s comfortable, maybe it’s a habit, or maybe it’s an opening.

It’s a dangerous assumption to make, because she remembers Mikasa yanking her arm away the last time they touched. And just before that, their touching reached a level of intimacy like never before. The discrepancy between the two is too extreme. She doesn’t know what it would do to her if Mikasa yanks her hand away again. But now that she’s thinking it, now that she’s looking at Mikasa’s hand on the gear, she realizes that she can’t not do it. She can’t not try. If Mikasa yanks it away, that just means the situation is unchanged. But if Mikasa doesn’t, if she gets to grasp Mikasa’s hand once more, then that is worth it. Squaring her shoulders for steadiness, she looks at Mikasa to gauge her reaction as she extends her hand towards the gear and very lightly places it upon Mikasa’s.

Instantly, Mikasa draws in a quick breath and Annie feels the hand beneath hers going stiff. But unlike her worst fears, Mikasa doesn’t pull away. She doesn’t look at her either, or do anything to acknowledge their contact. She doesn’t rotate her wrist so that they may be palm to palm and like they did that morning. She doesn’t spread her fingers to they may intertwine them like that day on the floor. Mikasa just keeps facing forward as she drives, but Annie does feel Mikasa’s hand slowly relaxing in her grip, and it emboldens her to give it a squeeze, to wrap her fingers around its form. Despite that Mikasa keeps it there still, and this silence drowns out her doubt. There is no uncertainty in the feel of Mikasa’s skin and the heat of Mikasa’s flesh. So she luxuriates in it, and in the trilling that blooms in her chest.

But it all ends too soon when Mikasa wordlessly slips her hand out from under hers to assist her other hand in making a sharp turn on the road, and then keeps her hand on the wheel for the rest of the journey. Annie gets the message, even if she doesn’t understand why, even if the switching is upsetting, and she folds her arms over her chest for the rest of the drive up until she needs it to open the door. Once she’s in her house she sighs, not bothering to turn any of her lights on as she lies down on the couch with her hand over her eyes. Mikasa was civil enough wishing her good night at the drop off, but to her it just adds to her confusion and not for the first time, she wishes that Mikasa isn’t like this. That Mikasa would stop veering from kindness to detachment and back again. Be kind, or be cold, but don’t be both. Granted, they only got this far because Mikasa veers, but at this point it’s just cruel. If Mikasa isn’t okay with the hand holding, then just pull away from the start. Allowing it for a while, allowing her to be hopeful at what it means only to then pull the rug out from under her feet does nothing but mess with her feelings.

She presses her hand against her eyes and just breathes through the heaviness in her head that is probably part Mikasa and part beer. She doesn’t know how long she lies there on the couch in that not awake and not asleep state but what finally snaps her out of it is two rapid knocks on her door. Not her doorbell, but physical knocks. She hastily sits up, eyes going to her clock and goosebumps creeping up her neck when she sees that it’s almost three in the morning. Who on earth would be at her door at this hour? She checks her phone then to make sure she hasn’t missed any messages by potential visitors, but there is nothing. Just as she stands up, wondering if she should ignore it or take a peep, the knocks sound again. Twice rapidly, like the first time, but softer. And she’s suddenly reminded of long hours sitting by the door, waiting, listening, only to be liberated by knocks just like these.

She’s certain then, who it is. Anybody can knock the door like that, but she knows it. It cannot be anyone else. She strides up to the door, swinging it open without hesitation. And she is rewarded for her certainty.

“Mikasa.”

“Don’t do that again.”

—is the first thing Mikasa says, her words muffled into the scarf around her neck, not even looking at Annie but instead on the ground, with her hands stuffed in the pockets of her coat. There’s an edge in Mikasa’s voice, and it instantly dampens Annie’s elation.

“What?”

Mikasa’s shoulders tighten, and the edge turns into anger. “Eren was right there. What were you thinking?”

Not of Eren at all. And she’s had it with how all their private conversations nowadays, hard enough to come by as it is, revolves around him. Doesn’t address anything she wants it to address. Involves an angry Mikasa getting angrier at her. Well she’s angry too. She’s frustrated beyond belief. “You said he’s asleep.”

“I can’t know that for sure,” Mikasa snaps back, finally lifting her head to glare at her. “What if he heard us talking and woke up? What if he randomly woke up anyway? What if he was never asleep but just too out of it to say anything?”

She tries to reason, gripping the doorknob to keep herself in check. “If he’s too out of it to say anything, then he’s too out of it to see anything.”

“We can’t know that for sure!”

Mikasa’s raised voice stuns her and takes the wind off her sails. She blinks back at the sight of Mikasa’s glower, at the hint of bared teeth, as the depth of Mikasa’s anger startles her. The anger, and the fear motivating it. Her stomach sinks at the realization that not only was she not thinking of Eren, she wasn’t thinking of Mikasa either. Of what would happen if, like Mikasa said, Eren actually saw them holding hands. Once again, she’s only thinking of herself. Of how uneasy she felt, and how much she wanted Mikasa to assuage it. The truth shames her and she drops her eyes as her frustration deflates, but in its place she doesn’t know what to do. How to defuse Mikasa’s anger. She’s never known how to do that.

“I’m sorry.” Apologizing is about the only thing she can do, and it won’t change anything. “I wasn’t thinking.” But perhaps, like Bertholdt said, Mikasa simply needs to know that she’s remorseful. “Clearly. I’m sorry.”

It works, and Mikasa’s shoulders instantly slumps as Mikasa heaves a harsh sigh. With it goes the furious edge, but not the simmering distress. “Don’t do that again.”

“I won’t.”

Mikasa seems to accept that answer and she looks down once more, her body seemingly relaxing as she takes quieter breaths. Annie waits for Mikasa to calm, waits for Mikasa to speak again, but when long seconds pass in silence, longs seconds that turns into an uncomfortable minute of silence, she swallows and breaks it.

“Is that all you came here to say?”

Mikasa’s answer comes after several more seconds of silence. “Yes.”

Annie frowns slightly, because it’s three in the morning, and Mikasa said previously that she wanted to stay with Eren. “You could have just texted me that,” she says, because that should be the logical course of action. But that Mikasa took the illogical one, that Mikasa is showing such a distinct discrepancy between her words and her actions, that Mikasa is now not responding to her logical suggestion, makes her heart flutter for what it could mean. She doesn’t want to be hopeful, because that hope could hurt her, but she doesn’t know how else is she supposed to interpret this. She cannot see why else Mikasa would be here personally. “Do you...want to come in?”

“No!” Mikasa’s reply is sharp and quick this time, and it startles Annie again after the long silence. Mikasa immediately notices however and she softens, stepping back. “No. I don’t want to come in.”

“Okay,” Annie replies just as quickly. The answer is not unexpected, but it is confusing, just like everything else. “All right. I was just asking.”

Mikasa raises her eyes then, and it seems like she might have something else she wants to say, like she’s deliberating whether to say it. But eventually, after another sequence of long silent seconds, what leaves her mouth is a sigh and a farewell. “I have to go. Good night.”

She grips the doorknob not to reach out and grab at Mikasa, similarly biting her tongue not to call out Mikasa’s name, and merely watches as Mikasa promptly turns and leaves, her figure growing smaller as she walks down the hallway. Now is an opportunity for them to talk without fear, without interruption, and Mikasa is already here. But that would be selfish. That would be her imposing her will again, and she’s had enough of that. Mikasa didn’t come here to talk. She retreats back inside her house and closes the door even before she sees the last of Mikasa, and she tells herself this is the right thing to do. To stop pressuring Mikasa. To stop being so selfish. But her knuckles are white on the doorknob and even after she slides down to the floor with her back against the door, even after she forces herself to sit there long enough for Mikasa to have left, her desire to burst out and chase Mikasa down, to ask Mikasa to stay, is a churning ball in her gut that never leaves.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, just because I think some people might be wondering, I want to clarify that Jean really didn't spike Mikasa's drink (and pretended to be woozy himself). So it really was accidental. Jean's a decent guy, and although I don't ship Jeankasa myself, it's a nice ship.
> 
> Also, I love Jager Bombs. And Marlowe/Hitch.


	15. as in love falling apart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm super stoked to finally get here. I've said it before but I'll say it again, I never could have come this far without all the love and support from you readers, so as always, my deepest gratitude for all the comments and kudos and everything else. Do enjoy the chapter and give me some love. Thanks.
> 
> \--
> 
> Chapter title taken from Teardrop by Massive Attack

“I made her angry again,” she reports to Bertholdt while peeling potatoes in Reiner’s Diner’s kitchen. “That’s all that ever happens nowadays.” And she cannot even put into words how entirely frustrating it is, after the leaps and bounds they crossed on Mikasa’s birthday, to be reduced to this.

Her childhood friend also peeling potatoes next to her, pauses in his motions as he tilts his head contemplatively. “That’s not how it’s coming off to me. I don’t think she’s angry at you.”

She pauses too, and looks up at him. “Then who is she angry at? Armin?”

“Herself,” Bertholdt supplies, and this has her really looking at him.

“Herself?”

“Like you said, she could have texted you but instead she showed up at your door,” he explains, and then with a purse of his lips he goes on peeling. “I think she convinced herself that she went there only to speak to you personally but when you invited her in, you hit the real reason she was there. Maybe she has some internal rules about seeing you, and because she broke it, she got angry at herself. Vented it out on you.”

Following after him, she goes back to peeling as well. “Perhaps. I did think about that. But that’s not what she’s angriest about. It’s because I’m selfish.”

“Aren’t we all to some extent?”

She shakes her head. “No, I’m really selfish. I don’t think about how she feels at all.”

“Do you know how she feels?”

“What?”

“To be honest,” he says, placing his peeled potato into the bowl of peeled ones and taking another unpeeled one up, “if she’s really as fearful of discovery as you say, I would expect her first reaction at Armin’s suspicion to be to cut things off with you. Instead she’s doing all sorts of things to divert his attention. Do you wonder why she’s holding on?”

She frowns, because he seems to be implying that Mikasa’s doing all that to stay with her. “Maybe because the power of decision is with me? So I’m the one holding on.”

Bertholdt raises an eyebrow, and then she remembers that he doesn’t actually know how her relationship with Mikasa works. But at the same time he doesn’t seem to mind not knowing the details either, and just goes along with what she said. “You call the shots?”

“Some of it, yeah,” she nods.

He smiles then, a soft, knowing smile, and she wonders what she said this time. “That actually strengthens my point. If you two are discovered, she’s probably the one who’s going to take the brunt of it, not you. Despite that, she’s still letting you decide what to do.”

She sighs, tossing her peeled potato into the bowl. “I know what you’re trying to say. And I won’t disagree. I know she cares for me. But I don’t think she cares for me more than she cares for Eren.”

Once again, Bertholdt looks like he’s not really getting the full nuance of her words. Maybe she should actually tell him everything about what her relationship with Mikasa entails, but it’s hardly the right time now while peeling potatoes, and when Reiner could just walk in on them at any given moment. It proves needless however, as the lack of nuance doesn’t hinder his assessment of the situation one bit. He reads what’s there, and he states it plainly.

“I don’t know about that,” he says, and she glances up to find him smiling down at her. “After all, she says she doesn’t want to leave him alone, but she showed up at _your_ door, didn’t she?”

Bertholdt looks at her like he’s figured out a piece of the puzzle. And she wants to believe it. That Mikasa showed up because she made a choice and that choice is her. But it’s hard to when Mikasa has been contradictory from the start. She’s not sure she wants reap the joys of that belief, only to have it dashed the moment Mikasa swings back to the other side. This is like Mikasa meeting her halfway, like that sliver of possessiveness she displayed. She knows that there is something within Mikasa that yearns for her, but that something also shirks back every time Eren enters the picture. That’s the thing she’s not sure is ever going to change.

And then, speak of the devil, the kitchen doors swing open suddenly to reveal their other friend, and her boyfriend. Both her and Eren look at each other with surprise, except Eren’s surprise is a delighted one. She’s just plain surprised.

“Annie? What are you doing here?” Reiner asks.

“Ah, Reiner,” Bertholdt smiles at him. “Annie’s helping with the prep by peeling potatoes.”

“I can see that,” Reiner replies, obviously still perplexed. “But why? And why did I not know you’re here? Again? You two are definitely leaving me out of the loop on something.”

Annie recovers, and just shrugs at him. “I came to the kitchen this time. You’re just outside busying yourself. Why are you here, Eren? The restaurant isn’t open yet.”

“Friends are allowed in,” Reiner answers for him, “just as how you somehow sneaked in.”

Eren walks over to her after patting Reiner’s shoulder with a chuckle. She accepts the cheek peck he gives. “I was just passing by. Thought I’d say hi. Didn’t know you’re here too.”

“Just helping out,” she replies, indicating the potatoes. “Want to help?”

Reiner is clearly dissatisfied by that and holds up his hand as he looks around the kitchen. “Hey now, goodwill is great and all but I’m running a business here not a house party. Where’s the guy who’s actually supposed to be doing the prep?”

“I sent Nikolo elsewhere since Annie’s here,” Bertholdt replies.

“Seriously?” Reiner is incredulous. “Are you going to be done in time? Will we have enough potatoes? Annie’s not even holding one.”

Annie grabs a potato in retaliation, but not before tossing some peel Reiner’s way. “You ass. I can’t cook but I can peel potatoes.”

But Reiner isn’t even listening, already halfway out the door. “I’m going to go get Nikolo to do his job. Come on, Eren. You don’t have to peel potatoes. We can continue the tour around the place.”

“Sure. Give me a second,” Eren calls out to him, and then turns to her again once Reiner exits. “So Armin’s going to be out of town for a couple of weeks on a research trip. I’m actually on my way to send him off. Want to come along?”

She looks down at all the unpeeled potatoes before her. “I don’t know. There’s still a lot of potatoes to go. It’s going to be my fault if Reiner doesn’t have enough potatoes later.” Eren just laughs at her task. “Send Armin my regards.”

“Right. Of course,” he says. And then he bends down to give her another peck, but this one he angles to her lips. “I’ll catch you around. You too, Bertholdt.”

“Uh, yeah!” Bertholdt, who has been pretending to be a lamp post, snaps up at his name. “See you, Eren.”

She watches as the door swings shut after Eren leaves, waits until she can no longer hear his and Reiner’s voices from beyond it, waits until there is nothing but silence, and then she starts peeling the potato in her hand. Bertholdt doesn’t, and in the quiet, she can hear him gulp.

“When are you going to do it?” he asks.

She heaves a sigh. “His actual birthday is in two days. Then I guess I’ll wait a week or two for buffer.”

He nods, peeling his potato. “And Mikasa?”

“Will end things, I guess,” she says, frowning. “But what difference does that make? We’ve technically already ended things. We haven’t done anything since her birthday. That’s six weeks.”

“And you’re okay with that? With things just ending like that?”

No. No of course she isn’t okay with that. She wasn’t okay with it back during the anniversary trip, when their relationship was still undefined, and she definitely isn’t okay with it now, when she knows exactly how she feels towards Mikasa. But what can she do? She rolls her eyes over to Bertholdt who only smiles kindly at her. He has not been off about his read on Mikasa, so she’ll trust him on this too.

“Give me a lift later?”

“Where to?”

Where she needs to go.

Later, as she stands before the door of the place she needs to be, she looks back at Bertholdt who she asks to wait only until a decision is made. Whether she is allowed in, or turned away. And if she is allowed in, then he can leave. He smiles at her, encouraging, and she raises her hand to the door. She doesn’t use the doorbell. She knocks. It takes a while, maybe because the knocks aren’t loud enough, or maybe because the knocks are suspicious when there is a doorbell, but after knocking again, the door eventually opens. And the occupant is not pleased.

“Annie,” Mikasa says dryly. “I wasn’t expecting you.” Then her eyes flits to the back where Bertholdt’s jeep is, and the lack of daylight does nothing to hinder her recognition. Her brow furrows.

“He knows,” Annie prefaces, setting the tone of her visit at the same time. “I want to talk.”

When she frames it like that, Mikasa cannot refuse her entry. But that doesn’t mean that Mikasa is happy about it either, disappearing into the house almost as soon as she’s pulled the door open. Annie has to let herself in and close it behind her. Instantly, something feels different about the place, and while it could be because she hasn’t been here for a considerable amount of time, it’s not that sort of different. It brings to mind what Armin said about Mikasa’s house feeling ‘off’, and how that’s what really got him suspicious. Because now it feels off, like Mikasa has completely wiped clean the entire place of all traces of her even though she can’t actually see any noticeable difference. Everything is exactly where she remembers them to be, yet it’s not the same. It makes her tempted to see what’s become of the bedroom, because that is the place she spent most her time here in, but no. That’s not what she’s here for.

She finds Mikasa in the kitchen leaning on the counter top with her elbows after an uncomfortable walk through the house that no longer feels familiar. The kitchen too, always so warm, now feels unsettlingly cold. “Did you throw out all the coffee while you’re at it?”

Mikasa glares at her. That’s probably not a good way to start. But Mikasa seems perpetually angry, not even offering her a drink as she usually does, or asking her to sit. So there’s no point in playing nice, and if this is the only chance they’ll get to talk, then she intends to get everything off her chest.

“That would be suspicious,” Mikasa says snidely. “Although, someone seems to know already. Maybe I shouldn’t have bothered. Did he figure it out, or did you tell him?”

“I told him. And I wanted to tell you,” she replies, feeling her guard come up at Mikasa’s tone. “But you haven’t exactly made it easy for us to talk.”

“It’s not that hard. It’s one line. You texted me about Armin, why not this too?” Mikasa counters.

“So I have to tell you everything I do but you don’t?”

“What do you mean? What have I done that I should have told you?”

“What you’re doing with Jean.”

“Jean?” Mikasa draws back, baffled, but there is one moment just before she says his name that her jaw tenses. It tells Annie that Mikasa knows exactly what she’s talking about. “There’s nothing going on with Jean. What I’m doing with Jean is distracting Armin from what is going on with _us_. Isn’t that obvious? I don’t need to tell you that.”

“So you just assumed I would know?” she bites back.

“Yes?”

“You could have mentioned it anyway. It’s one line, right? Not that hard.”

“Why does that even matter? You telling someone about us is a matter of concern to me. But how does anything I do with Jean concern you?”

“It concerns me.”

“Why?”

“Because I got jealous!” she spits out, the tension curling her fingers into her palms as she returns Mikasa’s glare. “Because Eren told me about you and Jean, because I saw you sticking with him all night and even dancing with him, because you refuse to say anything about it. You want to know what I was thinking when I tried to hold your hand in the car? This! I was thinking about how jealous I was!”

Mikasa stands, pushing away from the counter, and her anger is palpable. “You’re jealous? Last I checked you’re dating my brother, not me. Why on earth would you be jealous? What I do is none of your business.”

Annie flinches at the bitter truth of it. And perhaps that is precisely why she got so jealous. Because what Mikasa is doing with Jean could turn into something genuine and she would have no say in it at all. Because regardless of how long they’ve been doing this, Mikasa is right. They’re not dating. Mikasa isn’t cheating on her like she’s actually cheating on Eren, so she has no business reacting the way she is but she can’t help it because the one she actually has feelings for is Mikasa and it’s messy and it’s complicated and she hates it. She takes a deep breath, uncurling her fists as she exhales. There is no point in them riling each other up. Instead, she focuses on Mikasa’s feelings, at what her words are actually saying, at where that anger is really being directed.

“Does this,” she says softly, gesturing at the both of them, “mean nothing to you?”

Mikasa stares at the space between them, and then she mimics Annie’s gesture. “This, is cheating. This, is you being selfish as you always are. This, is you having a relationship and sex on the side. I’m just sex on the side, your fuck buddy. That is what _this_ is.”

Mikasa’s description of her role, and the use of that term that they’ve never used even as a joke, stabs a knife in Annie’s chest. She protests it. “That’s not what this is to me. That’s not what you are to me.”

“Isn’t it?” Mikasa sneers. “This started when you asked me to fuck you. You wanted sex, and you got it. There’s nothing more to this. You don’t get to come here and demand I explain myself. But you don’t care. You always do what you want, as and when you please, Annie. I told you not to come around but here you are, having forced your way in. You don’t care about how I feel at all!”

“I don’t even _know_ how you feel, Mikasa! You go from kindness to detachment at the drop of a hat, and it confuses me. I don’t know how you want me to react to you, whether I should retreat or I should chase. I admit it,” she nods, speaking with determination. “I don’t know how to deal with your switching states. I don’t know how to deal with your anger. But don’t you dare pretend that we came this far entirely because of me. Don’t you dare pretend that you didn’t want this too, that you haven’t been encouraging this the whole time. You offered me your address when I wanted to end things. You left hickeys on me even when I explicitly tell you not to. You flirted with me on the same vacation you knew Eren wanted to introduce me to his father. You fucked me on the floor after I told you I was upset with Eren after Christmas. You let me stay the night and shared the bed with me. You showed up at my door to tell me something you could bloody text! It was one line!” she repeats, throwing it back to Mikasa’s face. “Pick a response to _this_ and stick with it. I can’t do both. Maybe I’m selfish, but you’re dishonest, Mikasa. And you’re dishonest about being dishonest.”

She deflates at the release of all the things she wants to say, and as she replaces her spent breath, she feels the need to sit down. But the closest seats require either backing out of the kitchen to the couch, or approaching Mikasa to the dining table, and neither option seems right. Not when she has just accused Mikasa of being dishonest, not when Mikasa is glowering at her, jaw, shoulders, and arms tense, not when she has to stand her ground and not surrender nor threaten. She breathes calmly as she stares back at Mikasa, fully expecting either retaliation or retreat. She wants retaliation, because that way they can at least talk. But she never gets what she wants.

“You should leave.”

She curses internally. Of course it’s retreat. And it pisses her off to no end, but she tells herself to remain calm. Anger upon anger doesn’t lead anywhere. “Mikasa, stop running away.”

Mikasa growls in response. “Get out.”

Perhaps she shouldn’t have added on more accusations, perhaps running away is too strong a term, but it doesn’t matter at the end of the day. She knows it for sure now. Mikasa isn’t angry at her, Mikasa’s angry at herself. At all the things that she points out. Because if Mikasa doesn’t believe it applies to her in the first place, she wouldn’t be getting angrier. She’d just be confused. She would retaliate. So it’s all the more reason she can’t give in to Mikasa’s rage. It’s intimidating, it puts her on edge, but she grits her teeth and stays put.

“No.”

Mikasa’s glare turns murderous. “No?”

Her stomach sinks at the cold fury in Mikasa’s voice, and it tenses all her muscles. But she shakes her head and pushes out her words. “No. If I leave, nothing is resolved. I’m right, aren’t I? All those things I said?”

“There is nothing to resolve,” Mikasa snarls. “This,” she gestures again, “is done. Now leave.”

If Mikasa reducing what they had to just sex is a knife stab to her chest, Mikasa completely cutting things off, leaving her in the middle as she turns back and obliterates the path behind her, is her twisting it. Of all the outcomes she could foresee coming out of their talk, this is the worst. This is definitely the one she doesn’t want. She bites her tongue as a dull throbbing flares up in her chest, as her throat seemingly tightens up and thins her breaths. But Mikasa doesn’t take back her words. Mikasa just stands there leaning back against the counter, looking away with her arms crossed , like she’s done with the conversation. Like she’s done with this. Like she’s done with her.

“Mikasa—”

“You know where the door is. Just go, Annie.”

Annie stands there, staring at Mikasa leaning on the counter instead of ushering her to the door, or removing herself from the area by going elsewhere. And she wonders if the crack she heard in Mikasa’s voice is real or it came from herself, escaped from her slackened jaw from being cut off. She wonders if the reason Mikasa won’t look her in the eyes is because Mikasa doesn’t want her to see the hesitation there, to see that she doesn’t truly mean the words she said. She wonders if she’s thinking all of these only because she doesn’t want to go, because she’s the one stubbornly holding on. But when she does take a step back amidst her pounding heart and the ringing in her ears only to see Mikasa’s shoulder twitch and stiffen, she stops. She looks again at Mikasa’s face where Mikasa is still avoiding her eyes and she closes her mouth, bringing her foot forward to take a step closer instead. It’s not the first time Mikasa has said one thing while feeling another. She’s the fool if she falls for that again.

“Fine. I’ll leave,” she says, watching Mikasa’s reaction closely. And then she drops her gaze to the counter Mikasa is leaning on. “But first, fuck me against the counter.”

Mikasa’s head snaps up at her, the steely gray eyes growing as wide as they’ll go. “What?”

“You owe me that, remember?” she says, casually reminding Mikasa of their bet. “If you want to end things here, then I’m going to take what I’m owed before I go. If you don’t want to do it, then I stay and we talk.” Either way she gets something. “I’m selfish, after all. Which will it be for you? Are you going to be honest?”

Mikasa scoffs, rolling her eyes. “I can’t believe this. And you dared insinuate there’s more to this than sex.”

“You’re the one making this about sex. I gave you an option. If you don’t want to then let’s talk. That’s what I came here for. I still want to,” she presses. “What does it say about you if you’d rather fuck me than talk to me? You’re not my fuck buddy, Mikasa. You haven’t been that in a long time. And you know that too.”

“Enough,” Mikasa says, brows knotted with irritation as she pushes away from the counter and marches over towards her. “Enough. I’ll fuck you against the damn counter, and then you leave.”

Mikasa grabs her arm in a manner that is not at all gentle, pulling her to the counter and pushing her front against it as Mikasa presses into her behind, conveying exactly how she intends this to be. Hard and rough, cold and unfeeling, quick and possibly painful. Then Mikasa proves it by abruptly shoving a hand into her pants without any precursor, and Annie has to take a deep breath to relax and not tense up, gripping the counter top to not struggle or fight back. Because she knows what Mikasa is doing, and maybe part of it she brought on herself by poking at Mikasa’s anger. And just like that time with the blindfold, Mikasa is venting it out on her. Deliberately hurting her. Wanting her to regret the options she gave. Ensuring that this will be a bad experience that will suck so much she won’t ever want more.

And maybe if she hadn’t realized the things she does, she might feel awful about the fingers just indiscriminately rubbing between her legs, she might feel offended at being handled this way. But she does know, and her body can take Mikasa’s anger. Everything else, there is possibly nothing that Mikasa could do, that Mikasa would do, that would change how she feels about her at this point. Nothing would change her perception of their relationship. So she lets Mikasa vent, lets her face be pushed down on the counter top, spreads her legs to not resist Mikasa’s hand, and bring to mind all her past pleasures with Mikasa to arouse herself. Because as much as she’s mentally okay with this, there’s also another part of her that hates it. That reels against the inherent aggression. This isn’t how she wants Mikasa to touch her after having gone six weeks without. This isn’t how Mikasa usually touches her at all. It’s always unfathomably gentle, agonizingly slow, and even bordering on affectionate. There is none of that here.

So she tries her best to stoke her own arousal, to get some enjoyment out of the hand carelessly touching her between her legs, but it doesn’t quite work with how her waistband digs into her flesh at every move. And when Mikasa pushes her fingers in despite the lack of build up, despite the fact that she’s not half as wet as she needs to be, however much she’s okay with this and however much she’s allowing Mikasa to vent doesn’t stop the act from sending sparks of pain shooting up from her core. She winces, her body jerking where its trapped between the counter and Mikasa as her hands curl into fists. Instantly Mikasa stops with a startle, the reaction entirely expected. Because for all Mikasa is trying to hurt her, Mikasa is simply too kind a person to be able to do so intentionally. To follow through. It ate her up back when they were almost strangers, and now that they’re not, she knows with certainty that Mikasa can’t do it. In the stillness of Mikasa’s pause, she hears Mikasa’s heavy breaths, senses her racing heartbeat. Then the hand on her back pressing her down lifts away, coming to rest on the counter as another pressure finds itself between her shoulder blades.

“Why are you just taking it?” Mikasa’s words spoken into her back are muffled and strained, but she makes them out all the same. “I’m hurting you.”

This time, she knows she’s definitely not mistaking the crack in Mikasa’s voice with her own. Annie sighs, craning her neck to look back at Mikasa, but all she can see is Mikasa hiding her face against her back. She takes hold of Mikasa’s hand on the counter instead, pulling it in to wrap around her chest. “You can’t hurt me, Mikasa.” Then she plants a soft kiss on Mikasa’s palm to show her that she means it. “I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to push me away. You’re trying to make me hate this, so I won’t want this anymore. So that I’ll regret wanting this.” She then squeezes Mikasa’s hand, intertwining their fingers when Mikasa doesn’t resist. “But I’m not going anywhere, Mikasa. I’m staying right here. Because I don’t want _this_. I want _you_.”

Mikasa gasps so sharply then that she knows something within Mikasa breaks. The aggression, maybe. Or the mask. Whatever it is, when Mikasa exhales, the previously limp arm she wraps around herself comes alive and tightens its hold as Mikasa presses close. It becomes unmistakably clear then, what Mikasa feels about this.

“You’re not supposed to want me.”

She nods. The words are chastising, but the tone is not. “I know. I won’t apologize for my feelings. But, I am sorry I couldn’t resist. That I told you I knew how to handle physical relationships, yet I am the one who kept wanting more.”

“Did you even try?”

Once again, the words are mocking but the lilt is teasing. Mikasa is back to her usual self. Still, Annie brings Mikasa’s hand to her mouth to bite the base of her thumb, letting her know the snark is not appreciated. “You are quite difficult to resist.”

Mikasa snorts, squeezing her hand in return. “And your flattery is quite one note.”

But she doesn’t get to retort that, for the hand between her legs moves suddenly, and then Mikasa’s thumb is gently massaging her clit. She gasps at the unexpected stimulation, her muscles twitching with a surprise she quickly quells because this touch is no longer like the one from before. This touch is apologetic, tenderly soothing the pain it caused previously, and she encourages it by laying light kisses all along Mikasa’s hand. She’s not sure they should actually continue this, not like this anyway, and thankfully Mikasa seems to think the same. The caress lasts only as long as it takes for the pleasure to replace the pain, evidenced by her blissful sigh, before Mikasa pulls out her fingers and retracts her arm from inside Annie’s pants. Then Mikasa steps back, unpinning her from the counter and giving her space. But even as she turns around to look up at Mikasa, she holds Mikasa’s other hand fast, and doesn’t allow Mikasa to take it back.

Mikasa meets her gaze, her eyes downcast and her head hanging with shame. “I’m sorry. I did it again.”

Annie smiles, shaking her head slightly. “I told you. You didn’t hurt me.” Then she clutches on to the lapel of Mikasa’s cardigan with her free hand, giving it a tug. “Although next time, let’s just fight it out. Like a proper physical fight. It’s probably healthier than what we do too.”

Mikasa’s subsequent smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes, but she nods. “Okay.”

It makes Mikasa appear so small despite her height, despite her build, and all Annie wants to do is to fold Mikasa into her arms and tells her it’s okay. That she’s okay. That they’re okay. But she doesn’t actually know that last bit. What happens now. Where would they go from here. There are still no answers. All she does know, is that there’s something about the way Mikasa is looking down at her with an expression that is a mix of gentleness and guilt, that is just begging to be kissed. There’s something about the atmosphere, their held hands, their proximity. And she has enough awareness to sense that just like that other time, Mikasa will let her do it. Maybe Mikasa even wants it. But if she does do it, it would be too easy for it to be mistaken as an extension of Mikasa’s apology, even if that’s not the reason. She doesn’t want to cloud it with that possibility. If Mikasa wants it, then Mikasa should give it of her own free will.

So instead, she reaches up to curl her hand around the back of Mikasa’s head as she stands on tiptoes, planting her lips against Mikasa’s cheek in a lingering kiss of acceptance and affection. The fact that Mikasa bends down in time with her, that Mikasa looks surprised when she pulls back, is her biggest indicator that Mikasa thought it would be a lip kiss too. And that Mikasa does actually want it too. It’s not too late to change her mind. To lean in again and just make that contact. But she just shrugs and smiles as she brushes her fingers along Mikasa’s lower lip. It is for Mikasa to give.

Mikasa doesn’t give it, but something does shift in Mikasa’s demeanor, in the glimmer in her eyes. Something tender, something longing, that when Mikasa begins to head for the bedroom, guiding her along with their joined hands, she follows readily. This she can do. This she can want. Mikasa undresses her slowly, piece by piece, each removal marked by a kiss on exposed skin. The reverence raises goosebumps everywhere. But what really has her heart rate spiking and her insides buzzing, is when Mikasa takes her hands and places them on her own clothes, urging her to do the same. This is new. Almost shocking, because Mikasa has always undressed on her own, if she undresses at all. So it surprises her even more that Mikasa lets her take off everything, _everything_. Her mouth dries up, and not at the sight of Mikasa’s full nudity that she’s seeing for the first time, but what it means for her to shed off the last of her clothes. What it means for them to have literally nothing between their bodies. When their hands find each other again, it is Mikasa who takes hers, and then she is pulled onto the bed.

There is a lot of touching. Of rubbing and grinding. Scratching and sucking. Pushing and pulling. Nuzzling and biting. A lot of touching where it’s less about the ‘why’ and more about the ‘what’ and the ‘how’. Where the touching is for the very sake of touching, of being close, of being in contact. Where she comes as a consequence of all the touching, and not the goal. And because it is not the goal, they keep touching. It is dizzying to be touched like this, to be touched just like the very first time Mikasa touches her. Slowly, gently, and so very thoroughly. She wants to return the favour, to touch Mikasa just like she is being touched, but that is still off limits. Mikasa doesn’t actually say as much, but she gets the message from Mikasa constantly grabbing her hands to still them whenever she tries. A soft hold, but a pointed one. So she sticks to the ‘safe’ areas, and in these areas she touches liberally. Scratches and caresses, bites and bruises, sucks and marks.

And simply by doing that, even without touching Mikasa where she would feel it most, Mikasa is not unaffected. When she comes the second time from the lazy circling of Mikasa’s fingers, and as she lies there catching her breath with her head spinning from the pleasure and the buzz spreading throughout her entire body, she senses Mikasa straightening her leg, throwing one of her own over her thigh. It doesn’t even dawn on her what Mikasa is doing until she feels that familiar heat and wetness gliding along her skin. Annie groans, catching her lower lip with her teeth as she forces herself up on her elbows to look and indeed, Mikasa is once again straddling her thigh and chasing her release on it. She lets out choked moan at the slick motions of Mikasa grinding on her, at Mikasa’s fingers digging into the flesh of her hips and abs, at Mikasa looking right at her with those hazy, unfocused eyes.

It makes her head spin even more. She reaches over to where one of Mikasa’s hands are on her hip and she grips it hard. “Mikasa,” she breathes, “say my name.”

The noise Mikasa makes, all guttural and low, and how her body tightens up in response, has Annie burning with renewed arousal even as she’s still on the tail end of her second orgasm. But it’s only when Mikasa does what she asks, calling out her name in a hushed whimper, does her arousal become a need.

“Annie...”

“Again.” Annie grips Mikasa’s hand harder, snaking her free hand between her legs to rub at herself. “Say it again.”

She sees Mikasa’s gaze following her hand and then Mikasa groans loudly, working her hips faster against her thigh. “Annie,” Mikasa repeats. “Annie. Annie. Annie,” and it turns into a chant that accompanies them both to their peaks, sending her right over the edge of her almost painful third release, and Mikasa her first.

Her awareness blanks out then, unable to keep up with the myriad of heightened sensations assaulting her. Pleasure, pain, warmth, chill, the drumming of her heart, the heaving of her chest, the tremors of her muscles, the aftershocks of her orgasm, everything simply becomes a mess of overwhelming stimuli. But despite that she does note when Mikasa collapses onto her, nestling her head into the crook of her neck, and she immediately wraps her arms around Mikasa’s body to embrace her close.

Eventually, once the afterglow passes, they both settle on opposite sides of the bed, a body’s worth of distance between them. Annie lies on her side, watching Mikasa staring up at the ceiling almost unblinkingly, and she wonders what is going through Mikasa’s head. The distance doesn’t bother her, nor their silence, which is not uncomfortable or awkward, not after all they just shared, but there is a sense of fragility. It feels like they’re in a bubble. And that any wrong word, or any premature ones, would break it and break them. So she waits, sighing contentedly as she lets her eyes wander Mikasa’s form. That’s all that she needs to do. She just has to stay here and wait. Mikasa is the one who needs to meet her halfway, which she has. But whether Mikasa is still here, or maybe in her mind she’s retreating right now, that’s another issue.

That last sentiment appears supported by the frown on Mikasa’s brow, like she’s seriously contemplating the mess she’s just perpetuated, like she’s regretting actions taken during moments of high emotion. Maybe Mikasa will still ask her to leave after this, maybe this is farewell sex, maybe that’s why it feels so much like their first. Her heart leaps up to her throat at the thought because that would be disappointing. That would hurt. But that would also be Mikasa’s decision, and she would respect that, however much she doesn’t like it. So she can only hope that she’s wrong about what this means. She would gladly be wrong about this. Her eyes then lands on the hickey she left on Mikasa’s neck, the first ever, and her face warms at the memory. At Mikasa’s stifled moan when she bites down on her flesh, at Mikasa’s nails digging into her skin when she sucks, at the way Mikasa trembles as she licks the mark soothingly.

Then she leaves another one on the other side of her neck, another on her shoulder, and then the final one on her clavicle. She had just managed to get that one in before Mikasa pulled away, before her mouth could go lower to Mikasa’s breasts. She would have worshiped those globes, left marks on them too just as Mikasa left marks on hers. There’s even teeth imprints around her right areola, and she doesn’t remember how that one came about. But as she examines the red splotches on her skin, she wonders if maybe she’s thinking about this in the wrong way. Because there is something inherently possessive about hickeys, about marking. And Mikasa has left her first one even before offering her address. It was a conscious action too, because she warned about it, yet Mikasa’s response was to tell her to hide it. Despite Eren. Despite them both still wanting her to continue with Eren. Maybe, maybe, Mikasa has been struggling with this, with what she wants for herself versus what she wants for Eren, even since back then. And maybe Mikasa needs to want for herself more.

She slides her hand over the distance to graze her fingers along Mikasa’s arm from elbow to wrist, finally prompting Mikasa to blink and turn her head to look at her. That moment when their eyes meet before Mikasa reacts is a test to the fragility of their bubble. She feels it shake and sway and to her delight, it pops. But not because the moment breaks, but because Mikasa doesn’t shy away from her touch. Because Mikasa rotates her hand to take hold of hers properly. Because Mikasa makes their bubble physical by sitting up and taking the blanket from the edge of the bed, working it over them both. Because Mikasa settles back down on the bed facing her this time. The warmth and coziness of Mikasa’s hand and the covers, the soft glimmer in Mikasa’s dark grays as they gaze at her, instantly makes her trill with a giddiness like nothing else she’s ever felt before.

“I can stay?” she asks, her pulse fluttering because what else could the blankets mean.

Mikasa nods. “Just stay on that side of the bed.”

So they can’t cuddle, but that’s fine, because Mikasa isn’t asking her to leave, because she is allowed stay, and because this time it isn’t accidental like it was before. This time she is so aware of Mikasa being in the bed with her, so aware of Mikasa gently holding on to her hand close to her mouth, so aware of every exhale on her skin. They can’t cuddle, but everything is already so intimate they don’t need to. She takes it further, moving her thumb to press against Mikasa’s lips, and then in when Mikasa doesn’t resist. Mikasa raises an eyebrow in question, but she doesn’t answer. There is no answer. She’s not quite sure what she’s doing either, only for some reason, she wants to do this. She traces the front of Mikasa’s teeth and gums, the insides of Mikasa’s lips, and then the small gap between Mikasa’s upper and lower jaw.

At this point, she flicks her eyes up to Mikasa’s, seeking permission, and though Mikasa keeps her brow raised, it is given. Mikasa’s jaw slackens and Annie slips her thumb further in to touch the flat of Mikasa’s tongue. It is wet, and soft, and slick, and warm, and smooth, and the air that flows out is all moisture and heat. Besides the teeth, it doesn’t feel dissimilar to that other place that she also expects to be wet and soft and hot. Maybe that’s why she’s doing this? A substitution? She chagrins at the idea, but she doesn’t stop either, finding this somehow fascinating. So she drags the pad of her thumb all along the curve of Mikasa’s tongue, paying special attention to the tip, before she pushes further in.

Mikasa gasps and pulls her hand away. “Please stop.”

Her heart almost does but she quickly realizes that it is not rejection, not from the flush on Mikasa’s face and how she seems to be squirming under the covers. Instead, it is arousal. Unfortunately unwanted at the moment. “Sorry,” she says, more of a reflex than actually being apologetic about it. She’s not sorry at all that she aroused Mikasa after all. If anything, it feels nice. “I can ease it, if you want.”

Mikasa is probably going to say no, but she can’t help offering anyway. Predictably, Mikasa shakes her head, and a stray thought comes to her mind. That instead of her thumb, she should have pushed in one of her calloused fingers instead. Let Mikasa feel those with her tongue. Maybe that would have made Mikasa decide differently. She smiles to herself at the ridiculous notion that all this might be her trying to seduce Mikasa, and she brings Mikasa’s hand to her mouth to hide it while lightly kissing her knuckles. Now is no longer the time for sex. It is important, of course, because they always seem to communicate better after it, or during it, and that fact brings to mind what Reiner told her. That she’s a physical person. Evidently Mikasa is too. So the sex has done its part for them. Now is the time for words, for things that cannot be conveyed through actions alone. She hadn’t come here for sex, even though she won’t deny she wanted it, and that she’s pleased it happened, but she also doesn’t intend to leave without knowing what’s what.

She looks up at Mikasa to find the other watching her intently from across the bed, with the sort of expression that seems to want to say something, but hasn’t yet decided if she should. So it’s the waiting game again, and Annie waits. Returns their hands to the centre of the bed where it’s equidistant between them both, and releases her grip so that Mikasa can take her hand back, if she wants. Now is the time for words after all. But Mikasa doesn’t move, although her gaze does drop to where their hands are just loosely resting together, and then she breathes in.

“I think about it sometimes.”

Mikasa does not specify what ‘it’ is, and after several seconds pass, it becomes clear she has no intention of elaborating either. “It?”

“What you want,” Mikasa clarifies.

She wants many things. So that too doesn’t help narrow it down. But maybe that’s exactly it. It is vague because Mikasa isn’t referring to any specific want, but all of them. Her want to touch. Her want to kiss. Her want to be with Mikasa. She swallows. “And?”

“And...” Mikasa continues, her fingers now brushing gently against Annie’s. “Sometimes I want it too.”

Annie feels her breath hitch at Mikasa’s words, at the implication that Mikasa feels the same for her, and it takes all her self-restraint not to jump up at that. Instead, she waits until Mikasa lifts her gaze at her silence, waits until their eyes meet again. What she sees in them tells her that she’s not misinterpreting this. That Mikasa means exactly what she thinks she means. Instantly, warmth starts to spread everywhere, followed by the near irresistible urge to inch closer to Mikasa. But, there’s still one thing that makes her pause.

“Just sometimes?”

Mikasa’s face scrunches up at that, like she knows just what Annie takes issue with in her statement. Because it’s unfair to confess yet give herself an out at the same time. Which is precisely what ‘sometimes’ does. It’s both. It’s switching. It’s welcome today and get out tomorrow. Annie has had enough of that. And just like she can read Mikasa’s meaning from her eyes, Mikasa can read hers from her eyes too.

Mikasa looks down, her voice almost a whisper. “A lot of times.”

But she does hear it, and the amendment has her abuzz with joy. It’s not all the time, and that’s okay. She would never expect that from Mikasa anyway, having long accepted that Mikasa will always have a dedicated space in her heart for Eren. If anything, she likes that about Mikasa. That she’s selfless, devoted, and loyal. Mikasa would not be Mikasa without that quality. So it’s enough that Mikasa wants a lot of times. It means the scales are tipped. It means Mikasa is putting herself first, at least in this moment. But that still leaves one last uncertainty.

“Do you want it enough?”

Mikasa grows still, the fingers gently brushing hers halting mid-movement. The abruptness of it makes the hair on the back of her neck spring up in attention, in anxiety, and she feels a spark of fear that this is it. That Mikasa might pull her hand back and retreat. That this is too much. Too real. But nothing of the sort happens. Mikasa remains quiet, but she doesn’t move either. And then finally, at length, Mikasa closes her eyes and exhales loudly, but the words she speaks are still soft.

“I don’t want to hurt him.”

The gravity of those words hit her at once, has her inhaling sharply. Because that one line that says everything. It says that there is something that can hurt him, and will hurt him, but Mikasa doesn’t want to do it. Not that she can’t do it. Not that she won’t do it. There is no mistaking Mikasa’s meaning now. Coupled with what Mikasa said before, it points to only one thing. Annie lets out her breath, and with it, her nerves and uncertainty and the need to hold back. She moves, responding now to the strokes of Mikasa’s fingers by interlacing hers together and grasping down on Mikasa’s hand.

“Neither do I,” she says. But she can. And she will. Mikasa looks up, at their hands, into her eyes. And then slowly, but surely, she feels Mikasa reciprocating her hold. “What do you want me to do, Mikasa?”

Surprise flashes through Mikasa’s face, followed closely by the tiniest of smiles. “When have you ever cared what I want?”

She knows that Mikasa doesn’t mean that maliciously, and that it is largely true, but it is still dishearteningly unpleasant to hear. She sighs, tightening her grip on Mikasa’s hand. “I’m trying. I know I’ve been selfish. That’s why I want to put you first, I want to care about what you want, because you’re being honest with me.”

“Will you listen?” Mikasa asks in return. “What would you do if I don’t say anything?”

What she should have done months ago. What she unquestionably needs to do now. What Mikasa didn’t want her to do. “I think you know the answer to that.”

Mikasa scowls, indeed knowing it. “And if I ask you not to? If that is what I want?”

“Is it?” Apparently, Mikasa _still_ doesn’t want her to do it. But Mikasa’s gaze falters at her prodding, so she realizes it’s hypothetical. She answers anyway, shaking her head. “I can’t. And I know that goes against what I just said, but not this. I never promised forever.”

“You promised it won’t be because of this.”

“It isn’t,” she states, and when Mikasa scowls harder it hits her how Mikasa is probably taking that. Immediately, she brings up her other hand from under the covers to join its pair in holding Mikasa’s, rubbing her forearm reassuringly. “This isn’t about you, or Eren. Not exactly. I like you, Mikasa. I really do. And I do like Eren too. That’s all the more reason that I don’t want to keep hurting you both. But the main reason is that I don’t want to lie to myself anymore. I don’t want to have to pretend to care for Eren more than I do, and I don’t want to have to pretend to care for you less than I do. So I’m not doing this because of you. I’m doing this for me. For my own happiness.”

Mikasa’s eyes grow wide staring back at her, and she’s not sure why, but Mikasa quickly catches herself and blinks, looking down to their joined hands instead. “Even if it means that this,” and Mikasa squeezes for emphasis, “has to stop too?”

She frowns slightly, not knowing what Mikasa’s trying to get at at this point, because it should be obvious, to Mikasa especially, that there is no way they can continue on. Not like this anyway. Mikasa should even want them to stop. And she’s known for a long time that losing Eren means losing Mikasa too. She nods. “Yes. I want to be with you Mikasa, but not if it means keeping up this pretense.”

Mikasa nods as well, going on. “And you understand that even if you break up with him, that doesn’t mean that we can be together afterwards?”

Annie’s not sure which is more upsetting. That Mikasa blatantly shuts down that possibility, extinguishing her hopes that with enough time then maybe they could, or that Mikasa is bringing up all the reasons she had held on for so long, all the things she didn’t want to lose, almost as though to convince her that it’s still worth the pretense. Is Mikasa testing her resolve, or is Mikasa truly trying to convince her? But it’s not worth it. She knows it’s not. And that they can’t, even in the future, she expected that as well. Because it will never not be awkward for Mikasa and Eren. Damaging too, possibly. So even though it’s dismaying to know that Mikasa has made up her mind, that Mikasa doesn’t want her _enough_ , she gets it. And she has no intention of disrespecting Mikasa’s decision, or her own.

So she nods again. Firmly. “Yes. Even that.”

Then, to her surprise, Mikasa’s other hand appears from under the covers too. She watches it slowly emerge, but instead of latching on to their hands like she thought it would, it travels across the bed towards her, up the pillow until it is right in front of her face, and then a finger flicks against her nose. The action is so unexpected, catching her entirely off guard, that she doesn’t even know how to react. She brings a hand to bewilderingly rub at her nose, and then Mikasa chuckles.

“How is that caring about what I want?” Mikasa quips, smiling. “That’s totally selfish.”

Somehow, the idea that they could discuss this topic in any lighthearted way at all is mind boggling. It doesn’t feel right to find humor in it, or to joke at its expense. But as she looks at Mikasa gazing at her warmly, at the fond smile on her lips, she finds that she relaxes, realizing how silly that thought it to begin with. None of what they’re doing is in any way right, and being respectful about the topic isn’t going to make it less wrong. So why not laugh at it? Why not enjoy this moment for what it is? She’s here, Mikasa’s here, their feelings are clear, the next course of action is set, and this might be one of their last chances to be together. Instead of being upset, or bogging this down with what is right or wrong, she should simply savour the moment.

She grabs the offending hand, pinching the sensitive skin of the inner wrist in retaliation, and watches as Mikasa wriggles her hand away with a laugh. “That’s not what you really want.”

“It’s not?”

The amusement in Mikasa’s voice is the final green light that it’s okay to poke fun at this, and she shakes her head. “It’s not. That is you thinking of what’s best for him. I asked you what _you_ want. So if you’re going to be dishonest again, then I’m going to be selfish,” she declares. Mikasa doesn’t reply, but her smile does grow a tad wider. Acknowledgement, perhaps. So was Mikasa testing her resolve after all? She cannot say. But what is apparent is that by going off on that tangent, Mikasa never answered her question. “What do you want, Mikasa? From me.”

“Anything?”

“That is possible.”

Mikasa snorts, likely at the multiplying clauses, and Annie knows that doesn’t exactly paint her offer in the best light, but those conditions are only logical. Of course she refuses to continue playing house with Eren, and of course, she can’t do things that are impossible to do like going back in time and undoing this mess. But besides that, Mikasa can ask anything else, and she’d probably give it. It’s somehow scary, and wonderful, how willing she has been to give what Mikasa asks. In bed, mostly, but the point stands. From something so vulnerable and submissive such as getting on all fours while Mikasa takes her from behind, to something so unfathomably intimate and trusting such as allowing Mikasa to touch her where she’s never been touched before. None of those things she’s ever even wanted to do with anyone else. So Mikasa can ask her all that, and more, and she’d probably give it all.

But what Mikasa does eventually ask for is nothing of the like at all. They are just two simple words. “Turn around.”

Annie reflexively wants to ask why. Some small part of her at the back of her mind even panics, thinking of all the worst possible reasons why that would be what Mikasa wants. That Mikasa doesn’t want Annie to be able to look at her, even if she can stay. That their moment is over, and this is a form of distancing. That this is a rejection. Even if the more logical part of her knows that it doesn’t make sense, the panic flares almost instinctively, and it takes conscious effort to banish those thoughts. She wants again to ask why then, but she quickly realizes that the question would only be for her peace of mind, and that that’s selfish in itself. It completely goes against what she says too, because she did say anything, and this is definitely possible. This should be about her putting Mikasa’s needs first, and if she can’t do a simple thing as turning around without questioning it, then she’s definitely failing. She doesn’t want that. She’ll show Mikasa that she means it.

She turns around wordlessly, letting go of Mikasa’s hands in the process, and settling down on her other side as she looks at the walls and the windows. Then she waits for Mikasa to say something, or do something, because presumably Mikasa has a reason she wants this. But nothing happens for a while, long enough for her to begin wondering if it is honestly just a random request, or if it is indeed one of the illogical reasons she thought, when she suddenly feels it. Fingers between her shoulder blades, slowing tracing down the length of her spine. She shivers at the sensations, sighing as she presses her face into the pillow. It is a tender touch, not meant to stir her up, but she curls her fingers into the sheets regardless.

“Enjoying my sexy back?”

The fingers, now retracing their route up her spine, stops at her nape. Then, the unthinkable happens. The mattress bounces as she feels Mikasa shift and all at once a blanket of heat envelopes the entirety of her back. She jolts in surprise, but Mikasa holds her in place with an arm sliding around her waist to her front.

“Just stay like this,” Mikasa murmurs against her nape. “That’s what I want you to do.”

Mikasa’s warm breath on her neck and the strong arm wrapping her in a loose embrace calms her down despite her rising heart rate. Because they’re _cuddling_ , something she’s wanted, something she likes, but something they’ve never done. She doesn’t know why this is what Mikasa wants from her, but she doesn’t care. She’s going to make the best of this opportunity. Taking Mikasa’s hand in her own, she pulls Mikasa closer until their bodies are flush against each other’s, until their knees are knocking and their ankles intertwine, and then she hugs Mikasa’s arm tight around her chest. Mikasa accommodates her at every turn, and that does nothing but intensify her buzzing insides. Especially considering cuddling is not typically a short activity.

She asks almost tentatively. “All night?”

“All night,” Mikasa confirms.

Nothing else matters after that. Not the fact that she’s not sure if they’re done talking, if they’ve said all that needs to be said, if there is anything else that should be said, not anything. All that seems to matter is the comfort of being encased snugly within Mikasa’s arms. Of being able to stay all night, of being cuddled and being held. Because there is nothing like this tranquil feeling of being lulled to sleep by Mikasa’s slowing breaths against her skin and by Mikasa’s warm body blanketing her own. The only thing that could make this better is if she is facing Mikasa, so she could hold her in return. But she’ll take what she can get. Unfortunately, it is a transient feeling. And it doesn’t take her much at all to come to a conclusion the next morning, that it would be nice to not wake up to an empty bed. Which is exactly what she wakes up to.

She turns around, blearily noting the emptiness on the other side of the bed through sleepy eyes. The mattress is even cold to the touch when she runs her hand across where Mikasa should be, with not a speck of warmth to be found. And then she sighs as she rubs her face with her hand. She can’t say she hasn’t expected this outcome, but she can’t say it’s not disappointing either. She had thought that maybe, after last night, it wouldn’t happen like this. But like everything else, it’s simply not enough. What makes it worse is what she discovers later when she exits the bedroom to a pin drop quiet house. Mikasa isn’t even in, and this time there are no notes lying around waiting for her to read. The only thing she does find is breakfast of French toast with jam and butter laid out for her in the kitchen, and a text message on her phone.

_I’m out on a run. Have breakfast if you’d like. And if I’m not back when you want to leave later, don’t worry about locking up. Just close the door._

At once, her disappointment turns into crushing bitterness. Because it’s one thing to wake up to an empty bed, but it’s another to wake up to an empty house. It doesn’t help that she knows that Mikasa won’t be back from her run for a very long time. Not even if she waited here all day. Because Mikasa is not on a run at all. Mikasa is simply avoiding this morning after situation. And while she gets it, it is no less frustrating. No less upsetting. But she gets it. They may have shared much needed words last night, they may have shared something deeper. But none of that has changed the situation, or her required course of action. So perhaps it is better that they don’t get too hung up on each other. That things end this abruptly. Perhaps that is why Mikasa asked for what she did despite initially wanting them to stay on opposite sides of the bed. A final intimacy.

Annie sighs, letting out her disappointment with her breath, and then she stashes her phone with grim determination. Sitting down at the table, she eats the breakfast provided to her, and when she finally leaves the house, she doesn’t look back.

She goes to Eren’s place the next day. He is surprised to see her because it’s an unplanned and unannounced visit. But it is his real birthday today, and just as he dropped by her place on hers, she pays him the same courtesy. She has a hankering to see him anyway, to look at his face, to be in his company. It won’t be long now until she does what must be done. And since not everything is a lie in their relationship, there are things she still appreciates about him, that she still likes about him. But that liking has never gone beyond liking, beyond fondness. Ultimately, that is what is not enough. Not when she knows what it’s like to be more than fond of someone.

“Annie!” His face lights up at the sight of her and he smiles brilliantly. The sort of smile she finds endlessly charming about him. “What are you doing here?”

She smiles in return, leaning in to accept his kiss. “Just dropping by. Since it’s your actual birthday.”

“Come in,” he eagerly invites, ushering her in with an excited energy. “Did you guys plan this? Is something happening?”

She looks back at him even as she walks along the hallway. “Plan? What do you mean?”

“Well, Mikasa’s here too.”

And that’s when she clears the hallway, immediately spotting Mikasa sitting on the couch. Mikasa has had time to prepare herself, no doubt having heard her at the door, but she? She doesn’t know why it didn’t cross her mind that of course Mikasa would also be here today.

“Hi Annie.”

The casual greeting snaps her out of her shock, and she nods in return. “Mikasa.”

Her arrival allows Eren to make drinks, which apparently Mikasa declined but now has no choice but to accept. So she sits on the armchair adjacent to the couch and waits as glasses rattle in the kitchen, trying not to make eye contact with Mikasa as she looks down at her lap. She’s not sure how she feels about seeing Mikasa again. She hasn’t sorted out her feelings in regard to that yet. Whether she’s upset over Mikasa’s avoidance, or whether she has accepted that this is the way things are, or whether she’s just plain happy because she wouldn’t have had the chance otherwise. Perhaps it’s a jumble of all those things. But what she does know for certain is that she isn’t here for Mikasa, and she’s not about to let that change just because Mikasa is sitting there.

“I’m sorry.”

Mikasa speaking softly with Eren still in the kitchen makes it obvious that she is the recipient of the apology. She even knows what the apology is for without Mikasa needing to elaborate. But she doesn’t want the apology. If Mikasa feels bad about it, then she shouldn’t have run. Literally and figuratively. She has enough pride not to chase after someone who has made it clear they have no intention of staying. Or maybe she just doesn’t want to admit that she’s spent the better part of yesterday and this morning staring at her phone, hoping to get something from Mikasa, wondering if she should say something first, because she knows how pathetic that is. She’s the one who has been left to wake up alone. It isn’t like she doesn’t know what needs to be done. It isn’t like they didn’t just talk about it before they went to sleep. It isn’t necessary to hammer in the point like that.

She sighs, lifting her head to look at Mikasa. “I should have expected that you’d be here, Mikasa. But I didn’t come here to talk to you.”

Mikasa has always been good at the poker face, at not showing anything, but here her eyes almost openly widens before Mikasa turns away and nods. “Of course. Let’s not.”

Her eyes widen too at Mikasa’s reaction, because it’s looking a lot like Mikasa is hurt. But that doesn’t make sense. Another clink of glass reminds her of Eren’s presence, of the reason they shouldn’t be talking about this now anyway, and her confusion doubles. A few weeks ago, Mikasa would not even look at her even though Eren is so very clearly out of range. Refuses to talk to her about anything in relation to them. But now Mikasa is doing the exact opposite. Now, despite Eren being right there, Mikasa is apologizing for abandoning her the morning after they had sex and shared their feelings. Has she read the situation wrongly? Does Mikasa actually want to talk, screw Eren, and she has just shut Mikasa down? She gulps, unable now to ignore that possibility.

“Mikasa,” she calls, and Mikasa glances at her. “Later.”

The surprise is etched in Mikasa’s expression, but she gets another nod just as Eren exits the kitchen bearing a tray with three glasses. She’s not sure if there will be a later or if she’s ruined it, but she chooses to believe in that nod.

“Drinks are ready,” Eren announces, setting the tray down on the coffee table.

Then he looks at her with a slight scowl as he’s taking the glasses off the tray and she quickly figures out that by sitting on the armchair, he can’t sit with her. Mikasa promptly shifts on the couch, giving up the seat closest to Annie and Eren proceeds to settle there. She briefly wonders if she should leave the armchair to sit on the couch next to Eren, but that would just be awkward. She goes for her glass instead.

“What is this?” she asks, eyeing the cloudy, yellowish liquid within.

“Limeade with a special twist!” he grins. “Just a dash of ginger and vodka to bring out the flavour.”

She should have known from the slice of lime stuck to the rim and that very distinctive smell of alcohol. “Are you going to be alright?”

He brushes off her concern. “Hey, it’s just a dash. I’m at home anyway. I’ll just go to sleep.”

That’s true. At least nobody needs to lug him around anywhere. And he’s not that weak that he can’t handle a dash of vodka. She slides her eyes over to Mikasa then. Mikasa never drinks and drives. Not a drop. Not unless she has an hour or two to flush it out. “And Mikasa?”

“Oh, hers is clean,” Eren replies. “Since she’s so uptight about driving after drinks.”

Mikasa rolls her eyes at him. “It’s called being prudent. I will not drive while compromised.”

“Compromised? I’ve never even seen you tipsy, Mikasa.”

“Prudence is all about not overestimating oneself or putting oneself into dangerous situations.”

“Okay, okay. It’s as you say,” Eren sighs, taking up his glass and gulping down a mouthful.

Annie takes a sip of her drink too, pleasantly surprised at how the ginger and vodka really enhances the flavour. She takes a bigger sip, and then as she lowers the glass, she finds Eren watching her with the biggest grin on his face.

“Nice, isn’t it?”

She snorts, but smiles as she places the glass back down on the table. “You know it.”

He beams. “So, you two really didn’t plan this?” he asks, turning to glance at Mikasa as well. “It’s just by chance that both of you turned up here today?”

“It’s your birthday, Eren. And I’m your sister,” Mikasa replies, as though it’s only natural that those two facts would lead to this conclusion.

When his gaze returns to her she shrugs. “Likewise.”

She meant likewise in that it’s his birthday, so naturally there isn’t anything strange about her being here, but he chuckles at her answer, clearly taking it another way.

“You’re not my sister,” he says, reaching over to take her hand. “You’re my girlfriend.”

She hears the sound of someone choking, followed closely by glass hitting the wooden coffee table, and it startles both her and Eren. It’s Mikasa, and her hand is released as Eren quickly turns to his sister, now coughing vehemently as she wipes the drink that has spilled out of her mouth with the sleeve of her sweater.

“Mikasa! Are you okay?”

Mikasa nods through her coughing. “More sour than I expected.”

“Hold on, I’ll get you some tissues. And plain water,” Eren says as he gets up and barrels his way to the kitchen.

But she stays right where she is, unable to take her eyes off Mikasa coughing into her hands. It’s not so much that she’s concerned over Mikasa choking, but instead the curious timing in which it happened, right after Eren took her hand and called her his girlfriend. She wasn’t looking at Mikasa when it happened however, so she cannot tell if the two are connected. Mikasa too, seems far more interested in getting herself together than giving her any cues, and so she lets it go, picking her drink up for another sip. Eren is already on his way back anyway, although he’s walking slower with the glass of water in hand. Mikasa then takes a deep breath, seemingly having regained control of herself, but then with an abrupt twitch, she hastily reaches up to her scarf and unfurls it from her neck, most likely fearing that it might have gotten some of the limeade.

This time Annie’s the one who chokes as Mikasa’s scarf coming loose gives her an eyeful of the very hickey she left two nights ago. She slams her own glass down on the table, forcing her words out through the burn on her throat. “Wrap it back.”

Mikasa looks her way questioningly. “What?”

“Your scarf,” she manages while suppressing a cough. “Wrap it back.”

“Annie!” Eren exclaims, reappearing on scene. “No way, you too?”

She gives in to her coughing, bending over but glaring at Mikasa, discreetly and frantically tapping at her neck to signal her as Eren offers her the tissues he brought instead. But it is too late. When she raises her head again, she sees Eren looking at Mikasa, Mikasa looking back at him, and it takes Mikasa another two seconds before she finally realizes what she’s trying to tell her. The scarf speedily finds itself back around Mikasa’s neck, but it is indeed too late.

“That’s a hickey.”

Mikasa grips her scarf, looking down. “No it isn’t.”

“Oh come on, Mikasa,” Eren says, reclaiming his seat next to her. “I know what a hickey looks like. That’s a hickey.”

Annie creeps her hands up her own neck, suddenly conscious of the numerous hickeys she herself has that didn’t come from Eren, but her fingers meets the collar of her turtleneck, and she relaxes slightly. That’s right, that’s the exact reason why she chose to wear a turtleneck. If not for the choking, Mikasa wouldn’t have taken off her scarf either. But now it has been seen. She returns her attention to Mikasa, and Mikasa is drinking the glass of water Eren brought, likely to avoid or delay answering. Eren is unswayed.

“Is it true then? Are you dating Jean?” Eren asks eagerly.

“What? No,” Mikasa denies, shaking her head.

But the denial is so obvious that no one would fall for it. And as oblivious as Eren is sometimes, he doesn’t either. He sighs, regarding her sternly. “Mikasa, your business is your business. And it’s fine if you don’t want to say anything if you’re still considering it or testing things out but if it’s gone to the point where he’s leaving hickeys on you, don’t you think I should know?”

Mikasa frowns. “Why? I never pried anything about you and Annie until you announced it.”

“Annie and I weren’t leaving hickeys on each other before I announced it,” Eren replies, glancing at Annie. “Right Annie?”

She jolts at the shock of being addressed. “Huh? Yeah, yeah that’s right. We didn’t do anything before you announced it.”

“See?” Eren whirls back towards Mikasa. “Annie and I were just casually dating before that. But this,” he says, gesturing at her neck, “is not casual dating stuff.”

“That’s because we’re not dating. Why are you even thinking that?”

“Everybody saw you two dancing at my birthday party. You two arrived together too, and you never left his company the whole night! You’ve never done that before, so you can’t tell me nothing is going on.”

She sees the way Mikasa’s brows furrow, the tension in her jaw and shoulders, and she knows that Mikasa doesn’t know what to say. Perhaps it is unwise to have been so quick to deny that there is anything going on with Jean, because now Mikasa has backed herself to a corner. But it isn’t like she can say otherwise anyway. All it takes is a simple crosscheck with Jean to find out that Mikasa isn’t telling the truth, and at that point it will just raise more questions. Why she lied. What she’s hiding. Who gave her that hickey. Well, the answer is right here. Sitting right here. And she isn’t about to let Mikasa face this scrutiny on her own.

She shoots out a hand to grab Eren’s arm. “Eren, cut it out. She doesn’t want to talk about it. Why is it so important for you to know anyway?”

He seems surprised by her interference, as does Mikasa, from what she can make out from her periphery vision, but he doesn’t miss a beat. “Why? So I can give whoever it is the family talk.”

“Family talk?”

“The ‘if-you-hurt-Mikasa-I’ll-end-you’ talk.”

The sentiment is sweet, but she finds herself rolling her eyes anyway. “Eren, I’m quite certain Mikasa can do that herself. Mikasa never even did that with me.”

“Okay, fine. It’s a guys thing then, or whatever. The point is, I just need to speak to—” he cuts himself off suddenly, his brows shooting up as he stares at her. “You know about this.”

Instantly she freezes, and her heart starts pounding in her head at his scrutiny. “What are you talking about?”

He grins, glancing back and forth between Mikasa and herself. “No don’t deny it. I heard you just now. You were telling her to put her scarf back on. You were trying to help her hide this, weren’t you?”

Behind Eren, she sees Mikasa heaving a sigh, relieved. She wants to do it too, having thought that Eren is thinking about something else, that they’ve been found out, but Eren’s looking right at her so she can’t. “Eren—”

“Wait.” He snaps his fingers, expression brightening up even further. “So that’s what that was about. I wasn’t dreaming after all.”

“What?”

“In the car, after the party. You two were talking about Jean!”

Behind Eren, Mikasa goes stiff once again, her eyes widening in horror. Annie just curls her fingers into her fists as she curses internally. “You were awake?”

He shakes his head. “Not really, that’s why I thought I was dreaming. I heard my name, and then I heard you talking about Jean. Man, that was so weird I must have convinced myself I was dreaming. But I wasn’t! You actually were talking about Jean!”

She doesn’t dare glance over at Mikasa. She doesn’t want to see the anger she knows must be there, because she fucked up. She fucked up big time. “Was that all you heard? Did you wake up?” She doesn’t care if it’s strange to ask, if it’s oddly specific. Right now she just needs to know.

“That’s it,” Eren answers. “Like I said, I thought it was a dream.”

He didn’t see anything. He just heard some stuff that he’s now misinterpreting with all the other information that he knows. She can still fix this. Let him assume that he is right and just run with it. She chances a quick look at Mikasa, whose face is now white with dread, and she hopes that at least Mikasa won’t contradict her. Picking up her glass of limeade, she gulps down a mouthful and pulls a face. “I agree with Mikasa. This really is quite sour.”

His first reaction is to frown, but then it gives way to a sly grin as he laughs. “You’re trying to throw me off. Changing the topic. That’s basically admitting that I’m right. You did know about this!” He laughs some more, leaning back on the couch as he does. “Dammit Annie. You were supposed to tell Armin and I what’s going on, not help Mikasa hide it.”

“It’s like Armin said, she’ll tell you when she’s ready and not a word before,” she presses on. It’s a hard to argue with logic, where insisting will only make Eren seem forceful. And it works. She senses his enthusiasm deflate slightly as Mikasa too seem to realize its effects.

He huffs, not completely put off yet, looking back and forth between her and Mikasa. “Really? After all that you’re both not going to tell me anything?”

“I’m not dating Jean,” Mikasa says, speaking up again. “That’s all you need to know.”

He side eyes her. “And next you’re going to tell me that mark is a bug bite.”

“I’ve had bug bites like that,” Annie supplies in support. “Give it up, Eren. You’ll get nothing from us.”

This time his huff is laced with just a tinge of confusion, but as he continues to look back and forth between her and Mikasa, he seems to realize something else. And then he grins widely. “Wait a minute...you’re covering for Mikasa. Helping her hide things. Which means,” and now he turns to Mikasa, “you really told Annie what’s actually going on. Not Armin or I, but Annie.”

She doesn’t quite get what he’s trying to say, and a glance at Mikasa tells her that Mikasa doesn’t either, but that they’re both on the edge, looking at him waiting for what it is he’s realized. He folds his arms, letting his grin turn into a self satisfied smirk as he slowly regards the both of them.

“You two have grown close, haven’t you?”

The line hits her harder than she thought it would, because never has something been so on the mark yet so far from it at the same time. Her sight is then drawn to Mikasa, and she finds Mikasa equally watching her, likely thinking the same thing. It brings to mind what Mikasa once said before, about how the way they’re bonding wouldn’t exactly be how Eren thinks of them bonding, and it shames her. It shames her to see how genuinely pleased he is to discover that she and Mikasa are finally getting along, while they’ve been playing him for months. While they’ve wronged him for months. She expects Mikasa to break their gaze, to let it channel all her anger and resentment because Mikasa should hate this even more than her. Mikasa wouldn’t want Eren to be hurt even more than her. But to her puzzlement, Mikasa doesn’t break their gaze at all. There’s a heaviness in her eyes, something obstructing their usual steeliness, but besides that, Mikasa doesn’t look away. So she breaks it, turning to Eren when he goes on speaking.

“That’s great!” he says, smiling now. “Look at you two. Sharing secrets, standing up for each other against me. Wow, compared to the early days animosity, this is great! I’ve always known you two could get along really well.”

Her heart rate spikes at the mention of ‘secrets’ and she feels her extremities grow cold as he once again hits the mark but not at the same time, and it’s getting harder to keep a poker face at his obvious joy. Mikasa isn’t even trying anymore, having pulled up her scarf to cover half of her face. The only consolation is that while he’s talking about them, Eren doesn’t seem to actually be paying attention to her or Mikasa’s reactions.

“Ah, I probably didn’t help the animosity though,” he continues, although at this point his smile falters a little, and then he sighs. “Well, since we’re on the topic, there’s something I should probably confess,” he says, reaching over to take Annie’s hand in one of his, and Mikasa’s with the other. Annie feels him squeeze her hand, but he looks at Mikasa first. “I knew you two would get along. But at the same time I kind of also didn’t want you two to get along. Because, you know, I’m jealous of your strength, Mikasa. And I didn’t want Annie to find you better, so I delayed introducing you two, and when I did, well, you both know what I did. I hid things that made you both not hit it off instead, and secretly I was pleased about it. Sorry.”

He turns to her now, and she doesn’t know what to say, or if he’s even expecting her to say anything. So she slides her gaze over to Mikasa instead, but Mikasa has switched her focus to the floor, and she has to depend on herself.

“Eren—”

“No, you don’t have to say anything,” Eren interrupts. “I know I did a terrible thing. I sabotaged your potential friendship over my petty jealousy and I didn’t realize how badly I screwed up, how much you guys really didn’t like each other until Mikasa stopped coming over for a while. Then I tried to fix it, to get you two to spend time together and get along but I really thought for a bit that I ruined it irreparably. Thank god I didn’t.” He sighs again, his smile now unburdened by this truth he’s kept to himself all this while, and he brings his hands together while still holding on to hers and Mikasa’s. It makes their fingers brush together. “I’m so glad that you both have become such good friends. In light of your friendship, I’ll lay off the questions for today and accept that the mark is a bug bite.”

Mikasa takes off the moment their conversation reaches a stagnant point. She finishes the limeade Eren made her, as sour as she claims it is, but she doesn’t stay a second longer, almost bolting right out of the house. Annie cannot blame her for doing so. As much as it was terribly uncomfortable for her to sit there while Eren talked, holding their hands close together, she can only imagine that the discomfort is far worse for Mikasa. She doesn’t share Mikasa’s need to leave however, and the very fact that Mikasa has left has made the situation less discomfiting. She didn’t come here for Mikasa after all, so she remains seated in the living room for a while longer as Eren cleans up their glasses. When he returns from the kitchen, she has moved from the armchair to the couch so that they can sit together.

“Do you want to stay over?” he asks, settling down next to her and immediately molding his body into a cuddling position.

She melts into him appreciatively, allowing herself to enjoy his warmth of his body heat, the security of his arms, and the comfort of his heart beat. She wishes she could respond to him, to give back all the kindness he’s given her by giving him what he wants, but it would not be kindness for him. So she shakes her head. “I have an early day tomorrow.”

He accepts it easily, and instead asks. “Was it surprising, all the things I said?”

“Just a little,” she replies. Everyone has their own agenda after all, she’s learnt that with Reiner and Bertholdt. She doesn’t even think he did a bad thing, it simply spiraled out of his control. Just like this thing with her and Mikasa. Compared to that secret, Eren’s isn’t much at all. She does wonder however, what would have happened had Eren not done what he did. Would Mikasa and her be proper friends? Would it be the same? Or would she have realized much sooner, without the hate clouding her judgment, that she’s with the wrong sibling? She supposes she’ll never know. “Thanks for telling it. I appreciate it.”

He smiles. “At least you do. Mikasa doesn’t seem to though. She left in a hurry.”

“Don’t worry,” she reassures, gently tapping his chest. “I’m sure that it isn’t because of this.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he says, grinning at her, “since you seem to be the new authority on Mikasa.”

She smiles at the radiance of his expression, wishing that his words were true, that she really does know Mikasa as well as he’s implying. With her chest warm from the vodka, she lays her head on his, wrapping her arms around his sturdy frame, and sits with him for a while. He accompanies her to the door when she gets up to leave later, and when he leans down to kiss her goodnight, she curls her fist into his shirt and deepens it, pushing her tongue into his mouth as she kisses back hard. Since this will likely be their last kiss, she takes her time with it, hugging her other arm around his back as she presses closer. And after an initial surprise, he too, kisses her with fervor that when they finally part, he raises his brows at her quizzically.

“That was something else,” he remarks.

“Birthday bonus,” she replies with a small smile.

He laughs. “Goodnight Annie. Take care going home.”

“Yeah. Goodbye Eren.”

If he noticed her goodbye and not goodnight, he doesn’t say, and similarly, she doesn’t look back as she walks down the hallway and out of the building. It doesn’t surprise her to find Mikasa waiting for her at the bottom. Not even in her car as usual, but very visibly leaning against it. Almost as though Mikasa is making sure they will never miss each other. They did agree to talk later, but after what just transpired with Eren, after Mikasa practically stormed out, she thought Mikasa might have changed her mind. She wouldn’t even begrudge Mikasa for doing so. But no, Mikasa is here. And the list of things they need to say to each other has now doubled. Slowly, she walks over to where Mikasa is waiting, and Mikasa straightens at her approach.

“I’m sorry,” she starts, and Mikasa is instantly taken aback. She elaborates. “About what I did in the car after the party. You were right. That was stupid.”

That, at least, she has to get out of the way. Because it was so incredibly stupid, and jealousy or whatever, she shouldn’t have put them at risk. It’s the peak of her selfishness, and Mikasa was right to be angry about it. But Mikasa only sighs as the ends of her lips curve up slightly, and shakes her head.

“He didn’t see anything. It worked in our favour anyway,” Mikasa replies, glancing up at the apartment building.

She follows Mikasa’s gaze, but Eren’s unit doesn’t face the front side. “You’re not mad that he heard?”

“No,” Mikasa answers, shifting her gaze back to Annie. “Are you? I left you to wake up all alone. That was an awful thing to do. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not like I don’t get why you did that,” she shrugs. It hurt a lot when it happened, it continued to hurt the entire day and the day after, it hurt too when Mikasa initially apologized just before, but somehow, she’s not quite feeling it anymore now. Having it shoved in her face that she’s not the only one having a hard time certainly helps. They’re in the same boat. Neither of them are more hurt by any of this. “It’s fine. If we were to apologize for everything that we did each other wrong, it’s a long list. I wouldn’t even know where to start in this mess. Maybe we just put it all aside and call it even?”

That clearly surprises Mikasa, but she follows up smoothly with a nod. “Agreed.”

They lapse into silence then, both of them just looking at each other’s faces. It isn’t particularly awkward or uncomfortable, but it is likely that there are simply no right words to say at this juncture. Everything is messy, and even the reprieve of doing the right thing no longer feels enough. The longer the silence drags however, the heavier it becomes. She heaves a sigh. They might as well get this over with before it becomes painful.

“Eren is a good brother,” she says.

He cares. He wants the best for Mikasa. He might be a little oblivious, he might be a little petty, but he’s willing to admit his shortcomings and he still cares for her. They’re not real siblings, so maybe he’s not perfect, and maybe he won’t be winning any best brother awards, but for what it’s worth, they work as family.

Mikasa appears a little startled by the mention of Eren, but it doesn’t take long for her to nod again. “He is.”

She shoves her hands into her pants pockets, looking down as she drags her foot aimlessly on the pavement. “And you’re a good sister, right?”

Annie takes solace in how Mikasa doesn’t answer immediately, how her breath stutters at the question, and how her jaw trembles when she speaks. Because at least there’s that. But the words are what matters, and the proclamation—

“I want to be.”

—settles it. Good sisters do not fall for their brother’s partner. Good sisters do not aid in their brother’s partner’s cheating behaviors. And good sisters do not get together with their brother’s cheating ex either. She bites her lip, nodding her head repeatedly as she takes a step back. Let it not be painful, let it not be dragged out.

“Right,” she says, trying to keep her voice as light as possible. “That’s that then. Goodnight Mikasa.”

She turns around, half wanting to run if not for the fact that Mikasa will definitely know she’s not okay if she does, but she doesn’t even get to take half a step before Mikasa stops her by grabbing her hand. And it says a lot that it is not any length of her arm, much easier to grab, that Mikasa reaches for, but her hand. Her heart pounds away at the strong grip, at Mikasa tugging her back to face her again.

“I want to be a good person to you too, Annie,” Mikasa says. “I don’t know what I am to you, but whatever it is, I want to be good to you too.”

She’s not sure it’s possible to be both at this point. She’s not sure what being a good person to her even means. But she takes one look at Mikasa’s eyes, and understanding seeps in. What Mikasa means, seeps in. She’d be lying if she said that Mikasa’s words didn’t move her, and she wants to be a good person to Mikasa too.

“Let me take you home.”

She acquiesces. “Please do.”

They don’t talk throughout the journey, but they do hold hands. And this time, without the threat of a potential audience, without the burden of trying to figure out what it all means, their touch is unhesitant. There is no shying away, no pulling away, no hiding away. She holds Mikasa’s hand boldly, openly, resolutely. Because she understands what this, right now, is. It is the last. The true last, and not like what she thought was the last a few nights ago. This last isn’t tainted with high emotion and the need for clarification. There is only knowledge and acceptance of what it is, of all it is. The final hint of doubt appears when they arrive at her apartment and Mikasa sits unmoving behind the wheel for long seconds. Annie says nothing to encourage or discourage her, she just releases Mikasa’s hand to exit the car. In that instance, the doubt is vanquished as Mikasa wordlessly joins her on the sidewalk, decision made. She holds out her hand, and Mikasa takes it.

The walk up her apartment is similarly quiet, as is the entry to her unit, and the silence is finally broken only when they’re already in the bedroom, surrounded by the escalating sense of urgency mixed with the hushed desire to savour everything, and she feels herself drowning in the headiness of it. That’s when Mikasa cradles her face with both her hands, breath tickling her skin with their proximity, staring into her eyes as though wanting to kiss her, and she nervously grasps Mikasa’s wrists to contain the bursting in her chest.

“Did you kiss Eren just now?” Mikasa asks.

“Yes,” she breathes, and she knows it is the wrong answer.

“Then I won’t kiss you.”

It makes sense, the traces of Eren on her lips are still so fresh that it’d be indirect kissing if Mikasa kisses her. So she gets it, but that doesn’t stop her from whining, from clenching her fingers around Mikasa’s wrists as her head spins from the very thought that Mikasa wants to, that Mikasa would have, if not for that. “God, I don’t regret kissing him, but you’re sure making it hard not to.”

Mikasa smiles comfortingly. “Don’t. I’ll kiss you elsewhere.”

And Mikasa immediately makes good on her word, planting her lips on her brow, but it is a kiss far too chaste for the urgency and desire permeating around them, and Mikasa is not unaffected. She follows up that kiss with another, this one lower on her jaw, open mouthed with tongue and teeth, moving along her jawline to suck on her earlobe, and Annie shudders violently as she sinks onto the bed, pulling Mikasa down with her. Mikasa proceeds to kiss her everywhere, to strip her down and lavish attention on every inch of her skin with her lips and tongue and teeth, paying special attention to her neck and breasts and the tips of her fingers. And where Mikasa doesn’t go with her mouth, she uses her fingers instead to softly stroke and massage, to gently thrust and rub, and by the time Mikasa arrives back at her starting point with another kiss to her brow, she’s a panting, throbbing mess of arousal wanting nothing else but release.

If anything, how utterly wet and ready she is makes it possible when Mikasa turns her over to her hands and knees, and penetrates her with the strap-on without lube. She almost wants to laugh when Mikasa first brings out the toy from inside her coat due to the sheer incredulity of why Mikasa even has that with her at this moment. But the prospect of that little bit of humor, that little bit of teasing, pales in comparison to the feeling of being connected to Mikasa, of Mikasa’s hips snug up against her rear, of Mikasa whispering her name into her nape.

“Annie...”

Nothing beats this feeling of Mikasa being so close, so deep, so desiring, and she reaches a hand up behind her to thread her fingers into Mikasa’s hair. “Mikasa...”

Mikasa groans, already rocking into her lightly as she nips her neck and shoulders. “How do you want it?”

“Slowly,” she moans, relishing the feel of Mikasa filling her up, of their bodies brushing together, of Mikasa’s warmth enveloping her. She tugs at Mikasa’s hair, yanking her head forward to look into her eyes. “Fuck me slowly.”

Mikasa’s eyes darken with so much want it makes Annie’s insides roll and twist, makes her head dizzy with how much her breath catches. And then Mikasa does as she asks, fucking her slowly with long and deep thrusts, never once wavering in her torturous and agonizing pace. Any other day, and she’d be in a cross between screaming and crying into the pillow with frustration. But right now, with Mikasa languidly leaving kisses all along her back, with hands and elbows up around her front grasping onto her own, and with her name reverently whispered every so often, she can’t think of this as anything but tender and affectionate. Nor can she do anything but receive and accept.

She loses track of time, of how long they continue on like that, but eventually her slow built arousal peaks, spilling over with nothing else helping her along other than Mikasa’s constant, unrelenting thrusts. She cries out her gratification into the pillow, her body clenching and quaking through her release as Mikasa goes on fucking her through her orgasm, prolonging it until she’s whimpering and squirming to get away from the overstimulation. Only then does Mikasa stop, and Annie slumps down onto the bed gratefully when Mikasa finally retracts the toy from inside her. She feels so completely spent, half wanting to keen over how good it feels, and half wanting to curl up and rest because she is done. But she knows Mikasa’s bedroom habits too well now to also know that Mikasa isn’t, and when Mikasa turns her over to litter kisses all over her torso, to run her hands up and down her ribs and caress her breasts, it takes all of her to remind herself to breathe.

As Mikasa rears up to undo the harness of the strap-on and toss it aside, it gives her another few breaths worth of respite, and it tells her that at least there won’t be any more of that. But when Mikasa bends down again to place a kiss just below her belly button, all the tension that left her muscles with her orgasm comes crashing back as her eyes pops open and she raises herself on her elbows to look at Mikasa. Because there are unmarked lines on her body, places that Mikasa’s mouth never goes. Below her belly button, and above her knees. But there is no mistaking that Mikasa’s mouth is currently on her hipbone, biting and sucking a mark into the flesh there, as there is no mistaking that her hipbone is well below her belly button. Between that and Mikasa’s one hand spreading her thigh as though to accommodate her shoulders and the other softly sliding along her heat, it cannot be that she’s wrong.

“...Mikasa?”

Mikasa rolls her eyes up to lock gazes with hers and what she sees in them confirms to her that she’s not wrong. But still Mikasa takes her time, releasing the flesh of her hipbone to creep her mouth lower, kissing the sensitive skin where her leg joins her body. Then she speaks. “Do you want me to?”

It is somewhat cruel, and maybe that’s why Mikasa is asking if she wants it. Because this is their last time after all. Which means there is a chance this will be the first and final time Mikasa will ever give her this. Maybe she’d be better off never having had this, never knowing how it feels, so she would not find herself looking back and be left wanting. She could rationalize saying no. She’s still feeling her previous climax, she’s not good at all with multiple consecutive orgasms, and ideally she would want more time in between them. But Mikasa is _right there_. So close she can feel Mikasa’s breaths on her, so close her heart is beating like she never came the first time. So close nothing matters now save the need for Mikasa to zero that distance.

“Yes. Yes, I want you to.” She’d rather be left wanting than regret not knowing. She’ll just deal with it the same way she’s been dealing with everything related to Mikasa. Badly. With dreams. With imagination. With her hand. “I’ve wanted you to from the very start.”

There is no need to flatter Mikasa, but the tiny smile she gets in return is worth every word. Mikasa nods at her, “Okay,” and then she settles in and lowers her mouth.

The very first contact has her throwing her head back with a keening moan as sensations that fingers, hands, thighs, and toys could never replicate overwhelms her. It’s warm, and wet, and soft, yet hard, and as that slick muscle wriggles against her clit, she fists the sheets with a jerk. “Fuck! Oh god Mikasa.”

Mikasa doesn’t respond except to continue lapping at her with fervor, each tongue stroke gentle and exploratory and clearly not knowing what its doing, but it doesn’t even matter that its inexperienced, or haphazard, because the sheer enthusiasm with which Mikasa does it, with which Mikasa devours her, has her trembling uncontrollably anyway. Then Mikasa pushes two fingers into her, presses them against that spot within that drives her wild, and she chokes on a gasp as her body bucks. She feels like a string pulled too tight, with every press of Mikasa’s finger winding her up even further, and when she forces herself to lift her head, to look down and watch as Mikasa’s head moves between her legs, as she feels every flick of Mikasa’s tongue on her clit, she realizes that she’s not going to last. She’s wanted this forever, she has an eternity of pent up arousal that Mikasa barely needs to do anything. The very sight of Mikasa right there is enough.

She groans, frantically clutching onto Mikasa’s hand holding her thigh open just before the tension snaps. Her body bows inwards as she comes, her mouth open in a soundless cry as her muscles spasms through the length of her orgasm. Once again, Mikasa persists in her stimulation, but this time it is definitely too much and she desperately tugs at Mikasa’s hair with her other hand, not wanting to push Mikasa away but needing her to stop before the pleasure turns into pain.

“Too much. Mikasa, please. It’s too much.”

Her plead works as Mikasa listens and stops. Mikasa draws away from her only slightly, however, remaining close enough still that she can feel Mikasa’s hot and heavy breaths on her sensitized flesh. Surely Mikasa doesn’t intend to go another time. But as she watches Mikasa smack her lips together, as she watches Mikasa’s tongue licking the wetness around her mouth, as she watches Mikasa swallow it undaunted with hunger in her eyes, she feels her twice sated arousal simmering again. With no one else has she ever wanted to be fucked so many times in a row. She’s light headed, she hasn’t caught her breath, her body is still twitching from the aftershocks, but when Mikasa asks to go again, no doesn’t even cross her mind.

“Keep breathing,” Mikasa tells her, and it is sound advice.

Breathing seems all she can do. Mikasa spreads her wide, throwing her legs over her shoulders as she tongues her with a relentless curiousity, tasting everything, touching everywhere, trying every how. The suckling is the worst. There’s no stopping her body from writhing violently whenever Mikasa does that, but at least biting down on her fist in her mouth keeps the noises in control. Her other hand she keeps on Mikasa’s head, yanking whenever it becomes unbearably too much, or unbearably too little. It feels like Mikasa is kissing her there, alternating between gentle pecks and all out open mouthed assaults. There are no fingers helping her along this time either. It’s all tongue and teeth and lips, and just like the suckle, she gasps at the graze of teeth on her clit and the press of tongue in her heat. But what finally gets her spiraling over the edge and gasping like there’s not enough air in the room, is when Mikasa coats a finger with her liquid arousal, and then slides her hand behind and under her to touch her in that most intimate place, rubbing circles into the rim as she suckles on her clit.

Her vision goes white, and it takes her a while to regain herself after that. Long minutes of just quivering and panting for breath as the fog of gratification lifts from her head. Thankfully, Mikasa is well and truly done now, and she helps her down from her high with gentle massages on her legs and chaste kisses along her belly. Along the way, Mikasa finds the opening to bite and mark her inner thigh, staring right at her own dazed eyes as she sucks at the flesh, and despite her exhaustion, Annie thrills at the degree of possessiveness inherent in that action. She wants to mark Mikasa too. And touch. And taste. Directly from the source.

“I want to touch you.”

It would probably be more enticing of a request if she isn’t so tired she can barely sit up. But Mikasa grows still at her words, and then all at once, she’s moving from between her legs to straddle Annie’s hips, and taking her hands to place them on her body. One just below her right breast, and the other on her left thigh. Then Mikasa presses her hands into her flesh. She didn’t think she’d actually be allowed, and her mouth dries up at all the possibilities now before her. She stares at her hands, at how close they are to places she’s never touched directly, and then she meets Mikasa’s eyes once more, needing to be sure that this is really, really, okay. That Mikasa is sure she wants Annie to touch her. And just like Mikasa gave her the option, she needs to give Mikasa the same.

“Are you...are you certain you want me to?”

Mikasa doesn’t hesitate. “Yes. Touch me.”

So neither does she. She slides the hand on Mikasa’s thigh up to her belly, to run her fingers along the impressive muscles of her abs as Mikasa sighs, and then she moves the other hand up too, to cup Mikasa’s small breast in her hand, giving it a light squeeze and rub. That has Mikasa gasping, and instantly she feels Mikasa’s nipple hardening under her palm as she sees its pair similarly tightening in the empty air. She’s almost trembling with excitement as she watches Mikasa’s chest rise and fall with every rub of her hand, with every jostle of that stiffened pebble underneath. And when Mikasa lets out a whimper upon her other hand joining its pair, Annie freezes with indecision.

There are so many things she wants to do with Mikasa, so many ways she wants to touch Mikasa. Her eyes then flicks to the side, to where Mikasa has tossed the used strap-on. She’s even thought about that, and wondered what it would be like to use that on Mikasa, to have Mikasa at her mercy the way Mikasa has had her. But all the things she’s fantasized about for ages, and the time she has to touch Mikasa, just tonight, doesn’t add up. If she insists to try to do everything she wants, it’ll turn their sex into a marathon, and either she will tire out, or Mikasa will tire out, and that wouldn’t be nice at all. Especially for Mikasa. Then she frowns, suddenly realizing that she’s being selfish again. It shouldn’t be about what she wants, but about what Mikasa wants. About how she can make Mikasa feel good like Mikasa has done for her. _Because_ she only has one chance.

With a final roll of Mikasa’s breasts, Annie drops her hands and wraps them around Mikasa’s waist. “Mikasa, how do you want me to touch you?”

The flush on Mikasa’s face darkens almost imperceptibly before she turns away, looking down. “I—I don’t know.”

It’s strange how Mikasa can be so bold and commanding when she’s giving, and yet so shy and flustered when the tables are turned. She runs her hands up and down Mikasa’s thighs soothingly, wanting to turn that shy fluster into one of pleasure and bliss. And if she can touch Mikasa in only one way to give her that, then she knows exactly how she should do it. She pats Mikasa’s thighs. “Come closer.”

Despite her shyness, Mikasa obediently bends down, and Annie can’t help smiling at it. But that isn’t quite what she meant, so she puts one hand on Mikasa’s shoulder to stop it, “No, not like that,” and pulls at Mikasa’s thigh with the other. “Come _up_. Sit on my face.”

Mikasa is stunned. “What?”

She doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t clarify what she knows Mikasa heard anyway. She just looks into Mikasa’s eyes meaningfully, and gently tugs at Mikasa’s thighs. Mikasa looks back at her with widened eyes, her breath growing short and her face flushing so red it could rival her scarf, but then she inches forward. Slowly, nervously, but also steadily, until her legs finally frames Annie’s face. This close, and Annie feels herself going heady from the heat of Mikasa’s centre, from the scent of Mikasa’s arousal, and she wants nothing more than to just lean up and taste Mikasa already. But this isn’t about her. And she needs to make sure that the person who should be enjoying this, is enjoying this. Annie smiles up at Mikasa, massaging the outside of Mikasa’s anxiously trembling thighs, and kissing the inside of one tenderly.

“Relax,” she soothes. “Just breathe. You can hold on to the headboard, or my head, if you want.”

Mikasa nods, taking a deep breath while placing one hand on the headboard and the other on her head with an endearing submissiveness, and then Annie pulls her down. The unadulterated taste of Mikasa, the strangled moan that escapes Mikasa’s lips, and the way Mikasa’s body jerks as she drags her tongue from base to top is even better than anything she’s ever imagined. She wraps her arms around Mikasa’s thighs, holding her in place as she repeats the motion again and again until she feels Mikasa actually relax, until Mikasa stops twitching with every swipe of her tongue, before she narrows her focus on that one little thing that will make Mikasa feel good.

She pauses to swallow, savouring the taste, and then she leans up to enclose Mikasa’s clit in her lips, releasing it with a pop before immediately circling it with her tongue. Mikasa makes another noise as her fingers tightens in Annie’s hair, and it spurs her on further. She alternates her strokes, circling first, then flicking it from side to side and up to down, before grinding into it with the flat of her tongue. Whether consciously or unconsciously, and Annie can’t tell because Mikasa has angled her head upwards such that the only reaction she can see is her heaving chest, Mikasa begins to grind back against Annie’s tongue. She instantly holds herself still and allows Mikasa to grind, even moving her hands to squeeze Mikasa’s butt encouragingly. Mikasa huffs, grinding harder onto Annie for a while longer before Annie reclaims her control by retracting her tongue and then wrapping her mouth over Mikasa’s clit to suck gently.

Mikasa jerks again, letting out a keening whine as her fingers pull almost painfully at Annie’s hair. “Annie! Oh god—!”

Annie smirks into Mikasa flesh, hardly believing that she got Mikasa to say actual words, without prompting even. It must be that Mikasa is really feeling this, and so she decides not to draw this out any further. Pleasure to the point of pain, teasing to the point of sweet agony, only works if she knows Mikasa’s limits like Mikasa knows hers. Since she doesn’t, all she can give is pure pleasure. She gets right to it, working at Mikasa with earnest fervor, alternating her attentions between grinding and sucking to the pattern of Mikasa’s breathing. And when she feels Mikasa’s muscles go taut, when Mikasa is gasping at the cusp of her orgasm, Annie defaults to sucking, and sucking hard.

Mikasa’s thighs clenches around her face as Mikasa comes, shaking and shuddering above her, seemingly unsure whether she wants to grind out her release or to move away completely. Annie bears it, holding Mikasa tight while keeping her mouth attached, softening her sucking but milking the orgasm for all its worth. It is only when Mikasa’s grip on her hair and around her face loosens, and Mikasa slumps forward to lean on the wall and the headboard, that Annie stops too, moving her mouth and nose away from Mikasa’s centre. However, she keeps her hands running along Mikasa’s thighs in quiet comfort.

“Are you all right?” she asks.

Mikasa opens her closed eyes to peer down at her, just so happening to catch her licking her lips, and quickly closes them again with a nod, her face burning bright even in her post-orgasmic cool down. Annie hadn’t meant to tease her, so she kisses Mikasa’s thigh apologetically, although she suspects that even without her licking her lips, Mikasa might have had the same reaction. There is something very affecting about having someone’s head between one’s legs after all, and for both parties. She nuzzles Mikasa’s thigh, understanding now why Mikasa didn’t want to stop. She doesn’t either, but at the same time she knows not to push. Instead, she opens her mouth to bite Mikasa high on her inner thigh, remembering Mikasa leaving a similar mark on hers just before. If Mikasa gets to leave a reminder, then she intends to do the same. She closes her teeth over Mikasa’s flesh, and this time when Mikasa opens her eyes to look at her, they stay open.

Eventually, Mikasa settles herself at the edge of the bed, sitting up with her hands on either sides of her legs and clutching the mattress, staring at the wall. She doesn’t get off the bed, she doesn’t get dressed, she doesn’t leave, but she does sit with her back to Annie in absolute silence. Annie lies on her side, watching Mikasa’s back with chagrin. At this point, with everything that they have shared, words and otherwise, Annie is well aware that Mikasa isn’t intentionally trying to reject her, or run away, because if she is she’d be doing one of the first three things instead of sitting here. But the fact that Mikasa is sitting here with her back to her, Annie makes a startling discovery that Mikasa is actually pretty rubbish at being a good lover. Mikasa may do all sorts of things right outside the bedroom, but in it, she just doesn’t seem to know how to not make her bed mate feel rejected. Granted, all their early sex was all about not being affectionate after the fact and even now, she knows they probably shouldn’t because it will only make it harder when they part, but there are other ways to do that while still acknowledging her presence.

Annie sighs, hauling herself over to where Mikasa is, where she then drapes herself across Mikasa’s back, wrapping her arms around Mikasa’s waist at the same time. Mikasa stiffens slightly, as she expects, but it lasts only a moment before Mikasa relaxes once again. So she presses closer to Mikasa, resting her cheek on Mikasa’s shoulder blade.

“Can I still see you after this?”

Mikasa answers after a short pause. “I don’t think that would be appropriate. We’d be rubbing it in Eren’s face.”

“Even if I don’t intend to tell him that it’s you?”

She feels Mikasa moving, tilting her head back to look at her most likely. “Why?”

“I promised you once that when I break up with him, I’ll keep you out of it. So I will. It’s not important who I cheated with, only that I did,” she explains.

With her ear against Mikasa’s back, Mikasa’s breath sounds extraordinarily loud. “But that’s unfair.”

She smiles, lightly kissing Mikasa’s shoulder before drawing back to look at Mikasa. “What’s unfair is me dragging you down with me. I created this mess, so it’s only right that I suffer the consequences. But there’s no need for your relationship with Eren to suffer too.”

Mikasa draws back as well, but it’s only so that she can turn and face Annie properly. “Annie—”

“Do you want him to know that it’s you?” Annie cuts her off. Mikasa opens her mouth as though to retort, but the answer doesn’t form, and that is the truth of it. And that’s all right. That’s what she wants. “Mikasa, I appreciate that you feel like you want to share the burden, but it’s not needed. Let me take the fall so you don’t have to. Your cover worked. He thinks that you have something going on with Jean, so he’s never going to suspect that it’s you. If he says it, Armin will believe him too, and by the time he comes back from his trip, everything will be done anyway, so there’s no point in his suspicions anymore.”

Somehow, it all works out. This has to be the better way than dragging all three of them through the mud. But Mikasa frowns so deeply now, her lips down turned with so much dissatisfaction that once again, Annie appreciates her for it. She lifts her hands to Mikasa’s face, trying to physically wipe the frown away. “You don’t want him to get to hurt, right? Well, he’s going to lose his girlfriend. He won’t see it coming, and he won’t understand why. He’s going to get hurt. And he’ll need his family there to be there for him. He doesn’t need to lose his sister too.”

Playing the family card is probably unfair, but it gets results. She sees Mikasa weighing it in her eyes, and then finally, Mikasa sighs and concedes the point as her frown eases off.

“All right,” Mikasa says, reaching up to grasp her hands on her face. “But where does that leave you?”

“Around,” she replies. “Going about with my life. And maybe in time, the wounds will heal enough for Eren and I to be friends again.” Mikasa meets her eyes, and she knows the ordinariness of it is unimpressive. But it is also the reality. She had always been around even before she met Eren, or Mikasa. So of course she’ll always be around after too. Or, perhaps Mikasa is giving her that look because she’s not really answering the question. She gives Mikasa a small smile, brushing her cheeks with her thumbs. “Maybe in time, _we_ can be friends again.”

Mikasa raises an eyebrow, but she follows it up with a small smile of her own. “Proper friends, this time.”

“I really like you, Mikasa.”

Playing that card is probably cheating too, as Mikasa now seems thoroughly taken aback. But it’s probably due to the suddenness more than anything. Her feelings aren’t new, and at least she didn’t use _that_ word. It wouldn’t be appropriate anyway. That word is too strong, and right now, it would be a burden.

For a fleeting moment, Mikasa drops her gaze. But when she raises it again, it is while gripping one of Annie’s hands, and turning her head to press a kiss onto her palm. “I really like you too.”

Mikasa declines a shower so Annie pulls on something simple as she walks Mikasa to the door. Mikasa had suggested that she stay in bed, but she doesn’t think it’s going to be any easier and since both options would hurt anyway, then she’d rather go for the one where she actually watches Mikasa leave. It’s a quiet affair, one where words have exhausted themselves in the bedroom, one where words no longer need to be said. One foot out the door, Mikasa turns back to look at her, giving her a final wistful smile. She hasn’t decided whether she hates it or not, or whether she should give anything in return, but the door doesn’t wait for her to make up her mind and closes shut in her face. The finality of it all is difficult to swallow. But as she habitually reaches out to turn the lock, a consolation happens. The lock clicks into place from the other side, before she hears the key sliding out.

Mikasa has her key. She didn’t even think of it until now. She places her hand on the door, feeling her heart lighten at the realization. Mikasa is _keeping_ her key. So long as she doesn’t change the locks, Mikasa can come back anytime. Resolved, she takes a deep breath and turns away from the door, heading back into her house and into her bedroom. She has her own part to play now, a long time visitor she must evict. Taking up her phone and checking the calendar on the wall, she determines a suitable day, and opens up Eren’s chat.

_Eren, are you free next Friday? Let’s meet._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Point form thoughts part 2!
> 
> \- I've long wanted to arrive to this chapter simply to call out Mikasa on her bullshit. And just so it's clear what that is, Mikasa basically minimizes her role and responsibility in the perpetuation of the situation and their relationship. She tosses a lot of clues that she wants it too, but always puts it to Annie to take action. It's like fishing and then blaming the fish for taking the bait. So, let's be honest here. How many of you readers actually noticed that Mikasa was doing all this along the way? Do tell, I'd love to know.
> 
> \- This chapter is the first time in a long time that I've felt bad for Eren. He hasn't really had a big presence since after chapter 9, and that's because that's where Annie started to catch feelings for Mikasa so Eren's importance began to dwindle. So yeah, I have a sudden surge of feels for Eren.
> 
> \- Reciprocation! (And eating out, for that one person who wanted it) So kissing is the only boundary left now. But will they get it? They do have a lot of chinks to work out if they are to get together anyway. I think some of you have predicted this outcome for their relationship, so what's left is to see how it resolves. 
> 
> \- Also, I made a ton of little references in this chapter, and I'm pretty pleased with them. Too many to mention, so I hope they tickle you.
> 
> That's it for thoughts. Let me know what you think!


	16. love is a doing word

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, the final chapter! I cannot believe that we're finally here at long last. Wow. To think, this story was originally conceived as a smut oneshot. At one point I totally thought that this was going to be another incomplete project, and truthfully somewhere around chapter 9 & 10 I did seriously consider taking a break (which absolutely would have led to me abandoning the story). Not because no one was reading the story or anything, but because I was just tired. I'm so happy now that I didn't, and I'm super proud to have finally finished this. All my gratitude and appreciation to all you readers, especially those who at any point, took the time to leave a comment. I've received so many which were absolutely lovely, and they really were my fuel to keep going. So thank you all! And without further ado, here's the final chapter and conclusion to the longest fanfiction I've ever written. Enjoy~
> 
> \--
> 
> Chapter title taken from Teardrop by Massive Attack.

Eren doesn’t take it well is an understatement. He’s wary from the moment he shows up at their meeting spot, a far cry from how enthusiastic he had sounded in his reply text. Which is unsurprising considering that after that exchange and confirmation, she refused all other meetings with him. The one time she does see him before this is during their Wednesday class, which she approached professionally, treating him just as any other student of hers. He was confused even then, but never said anything at the time, choosing instead to later send a text asking if there’s anything going on. Her reply is that they’ll talk on Friday. So of course he’s wary. She has painted today in a rightfully ominous light. The fact that their meeting spot is a public park far out at the edge of the city that neither of them have ever been to, probably doesn’t help matters.

But it is better this way. It will be easier to bring up the topic when he’s already suspecting something is wrong. But knowing, deep down inside, and suspecting, through the clues that have been dropped, doesn’t make it easier to swallow. It doesn’t make it hurt less.

“I cheated on you.”

Said like that, without preamble, she cannot blame his resulting reaction. He looks like she slapped him. He looks like he doesn’t believe her. But she doesn’t want to beat around the bush, to small talk them both to distraction, to let him think that this meeting is anything other than what it is.

“What...what are you saying, Annie?”

She had hoped that he wouldn’t have this sort of reaction, because making her repeat it will only make things harder. She takes in a breath, turning to face him and his widened, shaky eyes, and gets to the heart of it. “I cheated on you, and I want to break up.”

The cycle of emotions in his expression is difficult to watch, and every switch weighs heavier on her heart. From shock, to disbelief, to confusion, to hurt, to anger. Anger is the one he ends up holding on to, letting it burn a fire in his eyes as his brows slant furiously. But she has expected this, and it is much preferable to hurt and confusion. That’s why she prefaced with the cheating and not breaking up. What she doesn’t expect is what he says.

“So that’s what it was.”

It has her heart leaping up to her throat when coupled with the look of comprehension on his face, like he’s figured something out. “You knew?”

“I knew something was off about you, since Christmas. This is why you were behaving so strangely, right? Fuck, I knew it! Was that when it happened?” Then his eyes widens as he seems to come to another realization, and he fumes. “It was during the party, wasn’t it? Someone you met there? Who was it?! Those were my friends!”

She almost flinches at his onslaught, swallowing thickly as she stares back at him. The relief that he doesn’t actually know what she thought he knows is short lived, because now she doesn’t know how, or even if, she should tell him that he is wrong on all counts. That it happened far, far earlier, that it continued until just recently, that it was someone far, far closer to him than his friends. Then she realizes despairingly that every one of those truths would destroy him. Because how could she tell him that it in fact started in July, and that it was somehow for his benefit, without telling him how it started and who she was with? If all she could say about it is when and how long, all that would do is make him believe that over half their relationship is a farce. And that’s not it at all. She truly wanted it to work. It wasn’t until November that it became clear to her that it simply isn’t. But it is likely not a kindness either for him to hear that she stayed four months with him in a relationship that she considers has failed. That she was not invested in salvaging. That she used to stay with someone else. Because he tried to fix it. He tried hard.

“Eren.” She closes her eyes and exhales, knowing that he isn’t going to like her answer. But it is also the truth of the matter, and if there is a time to say it, it is now. She opens her eyes again and gazes resolutely into his. “Who it was isn’t important.”

“What?” His bafflement doesn't last, replaced quickly with an outraged scowl. “What do you mean it isn’t important? You cheated with someone and you’re hiding who it is! Tell me!”

There’s a flicker in his eyes then, one that she quickly knows is him going through his memories, trying to remember that night to see if there was anyone she had been particularly close with. She heads him off before he starts naming names, for it will only do more harm for him to be suspicious of his friends. Besides, the only ones she stuck to that night was him, Reiner and Bertholdt, and Armin. Although, it is not too far-fetched that he might make the connection to Mikasa, considering the gingerbread cookies she received right after. She needs to ensure he doesn’t go there.

“It’s not the party. It’s not anyone I met that night,” she insists, and it is easy to say when it is the truth. She didn't meet Mikasa for the first time there after all. Then she immediately presses on to the true heart of the matter, steering him away from his preoccupation with the identity of the person she cheated with. Because the cheating itself is not the problem. It is just the symptom. “Eren, listen to me,” she says softly, calmly, hoping it cuts through his anger. “I’m not breaking up with you because I cheated on you. Even without the cheating, we wouldn’t work out in the long run. We might have lasted longer, but it would have ended up the same.”

“Why?! I don’t get it Annie, did I do something wrong?” he asks, and it’s clear that what she says has muddled with how he feels, adding questions and confusion to the mix, but his tone is still laced with anger. “Weren’t we fine just last week? Now suddenly you want to break up? We wouldn’t work out? You cheated on me? Where is this all coming from?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she replies quickly because if there’s one thing she needs him to know, it is that. And then she injects as much gentleness as she can in her voice, in her demeanor, in her gaze, but she knows none of that will actually soften the blow. “It’s been there from very early, but you didn’t do anything wrong, Eren. I want you to know that.”

He only looks even more confused. “Then why?”

She swallows, curls her fingers into her fists, but she doesn’t look away from his face. She owes him that much. “Because I don’t love you, Eren.”

Annie sees the moment her words set in and his anger deflate, because while he can be angry at a third party, at the ‘bad’ person she cheated with whom he can blame, he can’t do the same with her feelings. He takes a step back, breaking their eye contact as he sways on his feet. “I...I don’t understand. You don’t...we’ve been together a year. Why would you if you don’t...?”

It physically hurts to watch him struggle with her confession, and even if part of her is relieved it’s finally out there, the other part longs to reach out to him and hold him steady because she has never seen him like this. So disoriented. So _crushed_. And it hurts to hurt him. “I do like you, Eren. My feelings for you were genuine when we got together. I thought we were compatible. I still think we are compatible. But I know now that that compatibility is that of a friend,” she says, stressing that last line clearly, and he flinches. “It just never went beyond that for me. I thought that in time it might change, that I might want the same things you want. But I don’t. And every time even the smallest hint that you want to take things further shows up, I panic. Eventually we would arrive here all the same. Do you see?”

“But I...I’m taking things slow like you wanted, right? I know I moved too fast initially, like woah, going out of my way to get you to meet my dad without even telling you, but I said I was sorry about that,” he says, his voice and movements now tinged with desperation. He’s trying to keep things together, to hold on to the strings that binds them. “Didn’t we agree to take things slow? I can slow down further. We don’t need to break up.”

But those strings are no longer tied on her end. Perhaps they never were. And now, she's not even holding on to it anymore. “I’m sorry, Eren,” she says, and that is enough. His gaze fills up with dread at her apology, but she steels herself and goes on. “When I agreed to take it slow, I didn't really mean it. I never really tried. I simply didn’t want to hurt you. Even if we don’t break up now, if you convince me to stay, my feelings won’t change. I won’t try, and you deserve someone better than me, someone who wouldn’t give you empty promises and lie to you.”

His jaw tenses as he listens to her, as does his neck, his shoulders, his entire being, and then he’s moving, taking small steps to the bench just beside them which he silently sinks into. Elbows on his knees, he buries his face into his hands as he lets out a shuddering breath, and just sits there. She watches him,  contemplating if she should approach or stay exactly where she is, but in the end pity moves her, and she crosses over the distance to stand before him. Just that, just to let him know she’s there, but she doesn’t sit, and she doesn’t attempt to comfort him. He lifts his head slightly, looking at her face and likely realizing why she’s there. Likely realizing it’s the same reason she stayed with him for at least four months. Then he inhales deeply, an anguished glint in his eyes.

“Back then...were you already seeing that someone else?”

She wishes he wouldn't ask this. If only so she needn't pile on to his pain. But she owes him this. So she steels herself and answers. “Yes.”

His fingers press into his face and he nods bitterly, if only to acknowledge her answer. He lets out another hard exhale. “Who is it?”

“Eren—”

“Is it someone I know?” he cuts her off, his eyes practically pleading her. “Tell me at least that.”

“It won’t change anything, Eren. What are you going to even do with that information?”

“I won’t do anything. I just want to know. Please.”

He picks up on what she’s implying but does not say, and refutes it. For what it’s worth, she believes him, and she wishes she could give him at least that, the knowledge. If that someone had been anyone else, perhaps she could. But her belief that he would not go and confront the other person, that he would be aware that this happened because of her feelings and not because the other person won her over, that this is not a competition and he hasn’t been bested, ends where Mikasa’s name begins.

“It’s not any of your friends from the party,” she repeats, and that’s as far as she dares say.

But it is not what he wants to hear, and his forced in breath reflects his disappointment, his _recognition_ of the very fact that by refusing to tell him who it is, she has implicitly stated that she values the other person more than him. And he immediately switches gear.

“I don’t care that you cheated. I don’t care who it is,” he says, abruptly grabbing her hand. “I probably pushed you to it because I was going too fast, or whatever. But you told me the truth, you know? I’m not angry, so let’s just put that behind us.”

His grip on her hand is punishing, getting tighter each second she does not respond in kind. She drops her gaze. “Eren—”

“We don’t need to break up!” he stresses, his voice getting strained now. “I love you, Annie, and I can do better. Just tell me what I need to do, I’ll do it.”

Her eyes grows wide as she stares down at him because that’s the first time he’s ever said he loves her. She’s known for very long now that he does, but he hasn’t actually said it before until now. That he doesn’t hesitate, that he doesn’t even seem to realize that he’s said it, tells her that he probably thinks of it a lot. That in his head, he says it to her often. But, just as her love is a burden to Mikasa, his love is a burden to her. She looks down again at where Eren is desperately holding her hand, and she swallows for steadiness. For forgiveness.

“You need to let me go, Eren.”

The look on his face after she says that haunts her for days. The sensation of his hands slipping off hers as they fall listless to his sides, his unresponsive form sitting on the bench for long, long minutes, cuts deep. But it is done now. It is finally done now. She doesn’t see him anymore after that, nor text, nor call. He sends one text early on, still in shock and denial, pleading with her to tell him everything is a joke. She only apologizes again, and he does not reply. Subsequently, he ceases to show up during their training sessions even though he does not officially quit, and while she isn’t the type of teacher to chase after her students, she makes an exception for him. He doesn’t answer, not even when she calls from the office number, and so she leaves it at that.

She doesn’t tell anyone what has happened as it really isn't anyone else’s business, but Reiner showing up at her place exactly a week later, a hard frown on his face, indicates to her that Eren hasn’t been doing the same. Bertholdt is in tow, but he stays out of it, very clearly standing more to her side even, which she silently appreciates.

“What is going on, Annie?” Reiner demands, evidently miffed about more than just the news. “Bert seems to know exactly what’s up. This is what you two have been keeping me out of, isn’t it?”

“Eren and I broke up," she supplies. "I’m sure that’s why you’re even here right now. Asking me what’s going on isn’t going to change that fact.”

“He said you cheated on him! That’s what I’m asking about,” he barks. “How could you do that to him?”

She sighs, looking down to concede to him. “Yes I did. Yes it was terrible of me. Yes he doesn’t deserve that. Yes I wronged him. Yes I know that I’ve hurt him, and yes I’m sorry about it. But I can’t change what has happened. Letting him go is the best I can do for him.”

His nostrils flare with justified displeasure. “Annie, I thought you like Eren. Weren’t you two really compatible? Why would you need to cheat on him? Why did you even _cheat?_ That’s so not like you. If there was anything wrong why didn’t you talk to him? He says that this came out of nowhere. If it was something you couldn’t say to him, you could have told us-” he gestures at himself and Bertholdt, and then he appears to remember that Bertholdt does know, and he casts Bertholdt a brief glare. “-or well, you could have told me. I could have helped you try to fix things.”

Her gaze slides over to Bertholdt right then, sharing a look of understanding because there it is, Reiner’s subtle steering of her to stay with Eren, and attempted fix-it’s for all the problems in their relationship. Had Bertholdt not known beforehand, he would be there too, standing with Reiner giving her the same fix-it’s. Now Bertholdt just stays quiet, unwilling to vocally take sides, and that’s fine. She doesn't doubt that Reiner must be unhappy with him too.

She turns back to Reiner. “There is nothing I could have told you because nothing was so wrong in our relationship that we couldn’t handle ourselves. There is nothing to fix. I do like him, and yes, we are compatible.”

Reiner scowls. “Then what was the issue?”

“I’m in love with the person I cheated with, Reiner,” she states, staring evenly at him. “That’s all there is to it.”

It hits him the same way it hits Bertholdt. Out of nowhere, with shock and surprise. And seeing it for the second time, the look of judgement and criticism, she realizes that it’s not actually directed at her. It is directed at themselves, at _their_ realization of how they’ve been caught up in their own ideals for her, at _their_ realization that they’ve not been attentive to how she feels. She senses Reiner backing down instantly, but not before one last push.

“And you don’t love Eren?”

She shakes her head, answering firmly. “No.”

Bertholdt sticks around a little longer after Reiner leaves and without needing to be the buffer, he finally approaches her properly. “Are you all right?”

She smiles at him in gratitude. “Yeah, thanks. Will you be all right?”

He smiles too. “Reiner will come around. He and Eren are quite close after all, so I think he feels obligated to side with him.”

“I know, and it’s good that he does,” she replies, nodding. “Someone should. Armin is away, and Mikasa is...well, you know. No one else is close enough to the both of us to butt in.”

“Don’t stay away though. Come to the diner and talk to him. He probably wants to be happy for you. Did you see his face when you said you’re in love with Mikasa?”

She nods again. “I did, yeah. It’s the same face you made. Don’t worry, I’ll pay a visit once tempers settle.”

He moves closer then, joining her in leaning on the back of the couch. He is not subtle at all with what he asks next. “Speaking of Mikasa...”

She turns her head, not amused at his trailing off. It’s obvious what he wants to know. And perhaps because it's him, there is no need for subtlety. “We’ve split," she replies. "Since before the break up. Which is a good thing. Regardless of the fact that she knows it’s coming, I imagine seeing Eren like this would be tough on her. She’d be upset with me, and with herself. So it’s better we have some distance.”

Bertholdt nods, taking in the information. “I see. And how long does this distance last?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugs helplessly. “I really don’t.”

He smiles at her reply, a gentle, compassionate smile. “Do you want me to...pass a message, or something?”

That has her snorting out a laugh. “No! We’re not kids refusing to talk to each other unless by proxy.” But her laugh tapers off too fast, and then her shoulders slump down as she tilts her head up contemplatively. “I’m just waiting. And when she’s ready, if she ever is again, then she’ll come find me, I guess. I hope.”

In his eyes she sees the unvoiced question; ‘What if she’s not? Ever?’ and she’s glad he doesn’t ask it, because she doesn’t want to consider it either. When they parted that night, it seemed imminent. Like it was simply a matter of time before they would come together again. But anything can change within that time. Circumstances. Feelings. Maybe while she’s waiting, Mikasa might realize just how difficult it actually is for them to be together, how much disapproval they’ll face. Maybe while she’s waiting, Mikasa might continue her Jean cover, and somehow it becomes real. Maybe while she’s waiting, Mikasa might move on instead. Those are depressing thoughts to entertain. But they are not an impossibility either. Clearly, her sombreness shows in her face for she suddenly finds Bertholdt wrapping an arm around her shoulder in a gesture of comfort. She accepts it and doesn’t shake him off.

“I hope she’ll be ready soon,” he says.

She hopes so too, except she doesn’t know how soon is soon. How long does it take for it to be considered long enough? And does she do nothing in the interim? That seems like exactly the sort of thing that will make her depressing scenarios come true. But at the same time, if she tries to do anything other than wait, then it wouldn’t be Mikasa’s sole decision anymore. She made this happen the first time, if it is to happen again, it should come from Mikasa. She's thrown the ball into Mikasa's court, figuratively. Mikasa is the one who has her key. Mikasa should want it enough to seek her out. But she hears from Mikasa only once in this whole time, a couple of days after the break up, with a text asking what is going on and why she has broken things off with Eren. It confuses her for all of three minutes before she realizes that this is Mikasa playing the good sister, finding out more on behalf of her brother, trying to smooth things out if she can. Annie replies with the exact same thing she tells Eren. And that was the end of that.

It crosses her mind that she could go home, to her hometown, to pass the time for a bit. Since all she's doing is waiting. Living in the same city as Eren and Mikasa, and having now integrated their social circles, she’s bound to run into someone at some point. Maybe she should go away for now until things settle. Maybe this is the excuse she needs to finally pay her father a visit. Maybe now is the time to tell him about what’s been going on with her, about the ex-boyfriend of a year he’s never even heard of, and how she’s now pining for said ex’s sister. That is certainly an awkward subject to broach. She finds though, now that she’s thinking about it, that she does want to tell him about Mikasa. Even if they never get together, she wants to tell him that Mikasa exists. That she feels for her. She doesn’t know what that would do really, but maybe, she no longer wants Mikasa to be a secret. And he is someone she can tell without worrying about jeopardizing anyone.

Armin shows up a week later, having returned from his research trip. He waits for her outside the gym after hours, unannounced, probably believing that she might try to avoid him if he told her beforehand. And maybe she might have. She can deal with Eren, with Reiner, with a pretending Mikasa, with anyone else who is now a mutual friend meddling into her business, but Armin _knows_. They both know he knows. And that’s intimidating to deal with. He doesn’t immediately barrage her with questions or accusations, however. He is his usual self, all smiles and cheeriness, asking her out to dinner together, and they go to their usual cafe. But neither of them orders food.

“Is there something going on between you two?”

—is his first question after all the small talk is out of the way, and with his neutral expression and tone, it genuinely catches her off guard. Because it is impossible that he does not know. Even if Eren nor Mikasa say anything, Armin would see it in their faces.

“What do you mean?” she asks in return. “Eren and I broke up. You must have heard already.”

He shakes his head, not making eye contact with her as he drinks his tea. “Not with Eren. With Mikasa.”

It is entirely unsettling that he’s just sitting there calmly sipping his tea, asking her a question he already knows the answer too. She picks up her coffee, sips it too to buy herself some time. Evidently, he never bought Mikasa's cover with Jean. There is no point in denying or deflecting then. If he wanted to tell Eren, he would have already. And if she’s going to spill the beans, she may as well satisfy her curiosity at the same time.

“How did you figure it out?”

He places his cup down, glancing across the table at her. “You were unusually curious about Mikasa at the start, asking very specific questions. Then when we went to the beach, Mikasa straight up lied that you and her were arguing about jellyfish. She lied well, but it showed in your face that you had no idea what she was talking about. Neither of those mean much on their own of course, and it’s only when the three of us started having lunches together that something started to stand out.”

She’s disquieted by his noticing of things so early on. She’s disquieted that one of it was her own confusion she couldn’t check. But those weren’t what allowed him to put things together, and she should have known the lunches were the key. “What actually tipped you off?”

He leans back on his chair. “The way you two interacted with each other. Something about it always seemed strange, and I couldn’t put a finger on what it was. That is, until I hypothesized that both of you were pretending to not get along, then your behaviours started to make sense. And when I thought about why you two would do that, why you two are pretending not to like each other, everything clicked into place. Even you asking if Mikasa was with anyone.”

Annie frowns. “If you’ve known for a while why didn’t you say anything until now?”

“Because I didn’t want to believe it. I convinced myself I must be wrong. I wanted my suspicions to be wrong. Because it’s Mikasa. I couldn’t believe that she would do this, or anything that would hurt Eren.”

“Mikasa is allowed to want things for herself, to be happy.”

“She is,” Armin agrees easily. “She absolutely is. And I would have supported her, I would have supported you both, if you weren’t doing this behind Eren’s back. Why did you have to do it like this?”

She sighs, placing her cup down and leaning back on her chair as well, folding her arms. “What does that matter anymore now? In wanting to keep one, and then the other, I’ve lost them both. And you, Armin?” she regards him seriously from across the table. “Are you going to stop talking to me too?”

He shrugs. “That depends. Who started it?”

“I did,” she answers quickly. “I forced her into it, and I’m the one who kept it going.”

He stares at her for a while and she meets it, glaring him into believing what she says, before he smiles small. “No one can force Mikasa into doing anything she doesn’t want to, Annie. Maybe if it happened only once, I could believe you. But for it to have gone on for months, that means Mikasa must have agreed to it too. Although it speaks well of your relationship that you’re protecting her. Is that why you haven’t told Eren everything?”

“I have told him everything. What is important is that I cheated, not who I cheated with.”

“You don’t think he deserves to know?”

“Stay out of it, Armin,” she snaps, slamming one hand on the surface of the table. She can’t help that he knows, just as she can’t help if he’s already said anything. But if he hasn’t, and if he is now planning to say something that will get Mikasa into trouble, then there’s no way she’s standing aside for that. “I promised her that I’ll keep her out of it. I’m the one who started this, so there is no need for her to suffer as well. If she wants to come clean at some point, then she can. But I will not be making that decision for her, and neither will you.”

His eyes are wide at the physical expression of her ire, and his gaze drops to her hand on the table before he lifts his in surrender. “Of course, I don’t think he should hear it from me, so I won’t say anything.”

She sees sincerity in his expression, or at least what she hopes is sincerity, and she relaxes, reaching for her coffee to return her calm. There isn’t anything she can do to ensure his silence anyway, so she’ll have to trust him. She drinks, and similarly, he drinks too as they watch each other from across the table. But whereas she takes only a mouthful for steadiness, he empties his cup. She lowers hers, wary, and he stands up.

“Perhaps you believe you’re sparing her the pain. But there is relief in reproach, as you know. I think Mikasa will only feel guiltier every time she sees Eren,” Armin says, picking up the bill. “This is on me. Thanks for making time for me.”

“Armin,” she calls out before he can leave the table. He halts and looks down at her. “Mikasa needs a friend right now, not judgement.”

He raises his eyebrows, as though surprised, and then he smiles. “Of course. I care about them both. I’ll see you around, Annie.”

She lies in bed that night, hands over her face in absolute uneasiness after the exchange with Armin and the things he said. Particularly his parting implication that she doesn’t care for Eren, which very quickly leads her to an uncomfortable realization that not once in their entire conversation did she ask about Eren, about his well being after the break up, while at the same time being all too ready to jump at Mikasa’s defense and to express concern over her. It’s nothing new to her, but she wanted to believe that she cared about him more than this. That she cares enough to ask his best friend how he’s doing, even if it’s just a courtesy question. Armin probably wanted to believe that she does too. The scales are tipped, however, and when presented together, she cannot help which of them will weigh more.

But that’s not the only thing that stays with her. Relief in reproach, he says. She hadn’t even considered before this, that she could be the one having it easier, having confessed all she needed to while Mikasa is still keeping it all inside. She does remember feeling immensely relieved when she finally let it all out. Could she actually be denying Mikasa this relief? Isn’t this what Mikasa herself preferred? And then she sighs, turning onto her side to look at the edge of her bed where they shared their final conversation. Where _she_ talked Mikasa into accepting that keeping it quiet is the better option. It is a bitter thing to realize that she _had_ been making the decision for Mikasa.

There is no way to turn it around now, however. Not without asking Mikasa first. If anything, it would be far worse to reveal it now anyway, for it would become clear to Eren that Mikasa had spent the past two weeks pretending not to know anything. The one time to reveal it that she could have convinced Eren that the blame is primarily hers, that she could persuade Eren not to get angry at Mikasa, was during the break up. And that has passed. She has to trust Mikasa’s own judgement now, that if Mikasa reveals it, it is of her own volition, and because it is absolutely needed. Curling her body into a ball, she takes out her phone and accesses her sound files. Finding a specific ninety-second voice clip, she plays it and closes her eyes.

“Could I ask you a favour?”

Bertholdt, surprised by her request, attends to her immediately, leaving the counter to a staff as he sits down at the table with her. “What is it?”

She makes a disheartening revelation in the aftermath of the break up. Her social circle had always been small, but in the past year, it had expanded. She got together with Eren, she secretly spent lots of time with Mikasa, she often had lunch dates with Armin, and now she’s been cut off from all of them all at once. The loss reminds her of how small her social circle was before them, and how small it is again now.

“I’m taking some time off, going home,” she announces. It was only a vague thought initially, but after her encounter with Armin, she has no desire to have another such confrontation. With anyone.

“Home? Russia?”

She nods. “Yeah.”

He smiles, understanding. “Going away for a bit?”

She nods again. “Yeah.”

“When?”

“Next week. Thought that if I’m going to leave, it might as well be sooner rather than later.”

This time he nods, agreeing. “Do you know how long you’re staying?”

“I’ve taken a month off work, but I haven’t decided if I’ll be there the entire month. Maybe I’ll go travelling. Go on a journey of self discovery or something,” she replies, shrugging.

“Sounds nice,” he says almost dreamily, “if you do go travelling anyway. And? What’s the favour?”

She takes a deep breath, lacing her fingers together on the table as she looks at him. “I think it’s still too early to see Mikasa, or to contact her. But since I’ll be away for while, I want to know that she’s okay. So could you check in on her for me?”

“Check in on her?” he asks in return. “How?”

“Pay her a visit? See if she’s okay? I think she should be, but...” she trails off, unable to quite imagine what it would be like for Mikasa to not be okay. She’s not sure what she would even do if that’s the case. Break the distance they’re keeping by going to see her? Or just fret about it on her own?

“How will I know if she’s okay?”

Bertholdt’s follow up brings her back, and she considers it. “I think it will be obvious if she’s not okay.”

But Bertholdt lifts a skeptical brow and she gets his skepticism, because Mikasa is like her in that regard. She wouldn’t let it show that she’s not okay. He doesn’t press it however, probably knowing that she has no other idea anyway. “Want me to pass a message? Should I tell her you’re going away for a bit?”

She shakes her head. “No. Only if she asks, but don’t offer it.”

He frowns. “What if she comes looking for you while you’re away? How will she know where you’ve gone?”

She presses her palms together, letting out a resigned breath at his question. “I suppose, if it matters to her enough, she’ll find out.”

Bertholdt keeps frowning, clearly not agreeing with her reasoning, and she admits there are holes in it. Like she’s making things harder for Mikasa, like she wants Mikasa to prove herself. But it isn’t like that. She doesn’t want to make it seem like she’s urging Mikasa to make a call by offering a ‘deadline’. Her reasoning is simple. If Mikasa does want her enough, she will find out where she’s gone. If Mikasa does want her enough, she will ask after her without Bertholdt even needing to offer the information. And if Mikasa does want her enough, then this time apart, truly apart, won’t even matter. It will simply be part of the waiting.

A plate being placed down loudly on the table startles them both.

“Why are you two staring at each other like that? Is Bert the one you’re cheating with, Annie?”

Reiner looms over the both of them, standing next to the table with his arms crossed and a hard slant on his eyebrows. Bertholdt immediately springs to his feet.

“Wha—what are you talking about, Reiner?! Of course not!”

Reiner sits him back down, a finger on his lips. “Sssh!” And indeed, a number of patrons are now looking their way due to Bertholdt’s outburst. “I know, my mistake for saying something like that. Sorry.”

Her bulkier friend sits down too, and she swallows with queasiness at his words. “Sorry Reiner,” she says first, and he instantly turns to her. “That I kept you out of the loop.”

Bertholdt grows still, sitting as quietly as he can to the side, as Reiner scrutinizes her for long seconds from across the table. He goes from frown, to no frown, to frown again, and she wonders what is going through his mind, if he’s deliberating whether or not to scold her, but finally he sighs heavily and unfolds his arms.

“You probably thought that I would have told Eren, and you’re right, I would have,” Reiner says truthfully, but it doesn’t make her feel better about it. “Regardless of your reasons, or your feelings, I would have determined that what you did was wrong, and I would do the right thing by telling on you. I wouldn’t care that it’s none of my business. Then things would blow up, you would get mad pissed at me, you would never trust me with anything ever again, and we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now, probably. Maybe you wouldn’t even consider me a friend anymore.” Then he heaves another heavy sigh as he leans forward on the table, casting a quick glance at Bertholdt before focusing on her again. “And you know, the outcome would be exactly the same as it is now, you breaking up with Eren and all, except there would be something irreparable between us. Years of friendship ruined because I can’t keep my mouth shut, and poor Bert here would be caught between us both. So you were right to keep it from me.”

“Oh,” she replies, blinking back against Reiner’s outpouring of words. She focuses on his last sentence. “So we’re okay?”

“It still sucks to be kept out of the loop, so you’re eating that as a payback,” he points at the plate he placed down earlier, “and then we’re okay.”

Annie looks down at said plate, seeing it filled with broccoli. Just broccoli. Obviously boiled, and cut into bite sized florets, but with absolutely nothing else. “Um, I’m not a picky eater who doesn’t eat her vegetables. How is this payback?”

“That many broccoli, and it gets pretty revolting after a while. Trust me.”

“Right. Okay.” She picks up her fork just as Bertholdt leans in and whispers to her.

“Nikolo messed up the order and we just have too much broccoli.”

“Hey!” Reiner exclaims, smacking Bertholdt’s shoulder. “Don’t tell her that.”

Bertholdt just smiles at Reiner with a shrug, and she smiles too as she watches them, before digging in to her plate of broccoli.

“Thanks Reiner.”

“Yeah well, just wait until you’re halfway through and all you can taste is green,” he says, and then almost sheepishly he adds, “And if you do anything like this again, and I’m gonna give you a bigger plate of broccoli. And broccoli soup. Now eat up. You’re not leaving my sights until you polish that plate.

It never gets as revolting as Reiner claims it would, and as he makes good on his word to stay and watch until she’s done eating, she takes the opportunity to ask for a favour from him as well. Regardless of the fact that she and Eren are no longer dating, he is still her student. But he’s not answering her calls, and she suspects that he’s not even reading her texts, both of which is troubling for her role towards him in a professional capacity. So she asks Reiner to pass along the message to make sure that Eren gets it. That she will be away for a while. That she truly enjoyed teaching him. That she understands if he wants to quit. And that if he doesn’t quit, she’ll keep his Wednesdays slot open indefinitely, so he can always come back if he wants. Reiner gives her a head pat at the end, and this time she lets him do it.

She gets a text from Bertholdt a few days later, finally reporting his check in on Mikasa. _Mikasa seems okay, visibly, and she says she’s okay too. But I didn’t ask her too much since_ _that’s a bit awkward_ _. And as you wanted, I didn’t offer her anything._ The update fills her with a mix of relief and disappointment. On the one hand, she’s glad that Mikasa seems all right, that she’s functionally okay. But on the other hand, it also seems as though Mikasa didn’t ask about her after all. Rationally, she knows that it doesn’t have to mean anything. It doesn’t have to mean that Mikasa doesn’t care. But rationality and Mikasa don’t go together, and so the disappointment is there. Profound. It makes her glad she’s actually going away for a bit. It’s a chance for her to get away from this feeling, to clear her mind, and it’s an easier to swallow excuse that the distance between them is real instead of the self imposed one it actually is.

It only dawns on her that her deduction is flawed on the eve of her trip, when she’s in the kitchen peeling potatoes to make herself a potato salad, and she hears knocking on her front door. Not just any knocks, but a very familiar two rap pattern. She freezes, her breath catching as she instantly drops everything to stride to the door, almost stumbling in her haste. Pulling it open without hesitation, she makes a mental note to toss Bertholdt over his ass at who she sees. Because while it may be her deduction that is flawed, she’s quite certain his phrasing is also deliberate in leading her to that conclusion. But she realizes now. Him not offering anything doesn’t equate to him not being asked anything. She lets out a shaky breath as her heartbeat rises and warmth blooms in her chest. Five weeks is not the longest separation for them, but it still feels like it has been far too long.

“Mikasa.”

“Annie.” Mikasa’s voice is muffled by her scarf, which she reaches up to pull down before she speaks again. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she replies in return, not really knowing what to say. Still entirely flummoxed that Mikasa is actually here as she stands rooted on the spot.

Mikasa flashes her a small smile, and then she clears her throat. “Can I come in?”

That is not a question that even needs to be asked, and she pulls open the door, backing away from it eagerly. Mikasa enters, but once the door closes something shifts, and Annie gets that sense of fragility again. The bubble. Perhaps because right now, they’re at the same juncture they were before, where they know where they stand and they know what they feel. But whether they go forward together or they part ways here, remains unknown. So she keeps her tongue still and her hands to herself, waiting as Mikasa takes stock of all around her. Waiting for Mikasa to set the tone. Mikasa halts at the point between the living room and the kitchen, gazing at her abandoned half peeled potatoes.

“Am I interrupting anything?” Mikasa asks.

She shakes her head, before noting that she’s behind Mikasa and Mikasa can’t see her. “No, not at all.”

Mikasa takes her word for it, turning now to the living room to sit herself down on the twin couch. Annie does the same, going for the adjacent armchair to give Mikasa some space. Mikasa is still seemingly looking around, but Annie doesn’t know what she’s looking for, or maybe like her, Mikasa simply isn’t sure what to say. Come to think of it, she’s not even sure Mikasa is here because of Bertholdt telling her. Maybe her deduction isn’t wrong, Mikasa has no idea and she’s just here because. That’s actually even better. But no, it turns out to be exactly what it is.

“I hear you’re going on a vacation,” Mikasa says, finally settling herself and focusing on her.

“Yeah,” she confirms. “Visiting home.”

Mikasa nods at the information. “Tomorrow, right? I don’t see your luggage.”

So that’s what Mikasa was looking for. Annie tilts her head towards the bedroom. “It’s inside. I’m not done packing yet.”

Mikasa looks to where she gestures at the bedroom, before her gaze is immediately dropped with another throat clearing. “I see. That’s...um, well, it’s nice that you’re visiting home. I hope you enjoy your time there.”

“Thanks,” Annie replies, quickly, because it doesn’t slip her that it’s the bedroom, and probably memories associated with it, that is causing Mikasa to fluster. The reaction is encouraging and discouraging at the same time, but she puts it from her mind and follows Mikasa’s lead for now, changing the topic. “How...how’s Eren?”

Mikasa lifts her head, but her expression gives away nothing of what she thinks of this topic being brought up. “He’s fine,” she says first, then she frowns as she expands on it. “He was really confused initially, kept blaming himself, going over all the things he thought he did wrong. But he’s better now. He’s still upset, but he’s not talking much about it anymore.”

The sigh Mikasa lets out after her last sentence sounds almost painful, and it reminds her of Armin’s words, that so long as Mikasa’s part in this remains a secret, Mikasa will only feel guiltier every time she sees Eren. And it shows. Hearing that Eren is doing better by the day, that he isn’t wallowing in misery after the break up, fills her with nothing but relief. But Mikasa very clearly looks like she’s in pain. And this is from just talking _about_ him. She can’t even imagine what Mikasa must feel when she’s talking _to_ Eren. Listening to Eren blame himself. Listening to Eren think of all the things he could have done differently. Listening to Eren wonder who the person she cheated with is. Annie swallows in a breath, curling her fingers into fists.

“Is Armin giving you a hard time?”

“Armin?” The frown eases off a little, but in its place is something Annie can’t quite decipher. Mikasa shakes her head. “No. We spoke about this just once. He never brought it up again.”

At least there’s that. At least Armin is doing as he says. But Armin has never been the biggest issue in the first place. And neither is he the biggest issue now.

“Was he harsh to you?” Mikasa asks in return.

And she shakes her head too. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

Mikasa nods then, looking down and stuffing her hands into her coat pockets. She wonders, as she’s looking down at her own hands, unfurling her fists with a drawn out exhale, if she should bring up what Armin said. If she should suggest that Mikasa come clean too, if only for the relief and the peace of mind. But Eren is doing better now, finally, and revealing this will only reopen the wounds. Cut them deeper. That isn’t fair to Eren. But in exchange for sparing him, Mikasa is the one suffering in silence. And she doesn’t want that either. She squeezes her eyes shut for all her powerlessness.

“I’m sorry, Mikasa. For all of this.”

“Yes. So am I.”

The instantaneous reply catches her off guard, and when she opens her eyes to meet Mikasa’s glancing over at hers, she sees an understanding. A shared, implicit understanding of what their situation has become. Of the paths available to them right now. Of which one they seem set to go down. It is not the one she wants to go down. But it is not about what she wants. And it doesn’t mean that this is what Mikasa wants either. She glances at her bedroom, and then back at Mikasa. 

“Why are you here, Mikasa?”

She leans forward in her seat, staring right into Mikasa’s steely grays as she asks this, catching the moment those eyes waver and widen, and the moment Mikasa breaks the contact to look away. Mikasa doesn’t answer for long seconds, to the point where it feels like she doesn’t plan to answer at all, to the point where Annie isn’t sure whether to repeat her question or accept the silence as the answer. What keeps her waiting is the grimace on Mikasa’s face, the breaths that seem just a little bit strained, and the body that is leaning back all stiff and still. But most of all, it is that Mikasa can’t meet her eyes. She watches Mikasa’s neck move as a heavy sigh escapes, and then Mikasa is tensing up, almost as though she’s making herself seem smaller. The answer, when it comes, is similarly soft.

“I don’t know, Annie.”

That’s all she needs to hear. She stands up and marches over to the startled Mikasa, straddling her lap while hugging her arms around Mikasa’s shoulders without warning, pulling her close. Mikasa protests, but their bodies know each other’s so well by now, so familiarly, that Mikasa's hands instantly move to wrap around her waist.

“Annie? What are you—”

“I do,” she says, cutting Mikasa off. Mikasa’s actions are more honest than her words anyway, and the hands around her waist pressing tightly into her is proof of that. “I do,” she repeats, angling her mouth to Mikasa’s ear. “And you do too. You want this. You want me.”

She hears Mikasa gulp, and then nothing for a few quiet, strained moments, but then the facade breaks with a whimper, and Mikasa is pulling her close equally as hard. Fingers dig into her back as Mikasa nuzzles her neck, and the feeling that burns within her at their closeness, at the desperate longing with which they are holding each other so tightly, is so intense it chokes her up.

“Yes,” Mikasa murmurs into her neck. “Yes I do.”

Mikasa’s admission only heightens everything, and she inches herself closer, removing any distance between their bodies as she buries her face into Mikasa’s hair. It’s disorientating, it’s overwhelming, but it is also steadying, and she hugs Mikasa for dear life. And it suddenly hits her in this moment that they’ve never actually done this where it doesn’t precede or is preceded by sex. They’ve never actually hugged just for the sake of hugging. Just to hold each other. So she savours it, the feel of holding Mikasa close, of being close, of being held. Just this, and all the inherent intimacies that come with it, is enough for now. It isn’t until her heartbeat is no longer a thundering thumping in her head, but a relaxed, steady cadence in her chest, that she loosens her hold and pulls back slowly. She could probably just hug Mikasa endlessly, but there are things to address right now. Mikasa does the same, also drawing back to look up at her, but the moment Annie looks her in the face, the moment their gazes meet, another need rises from deep within her, and it very quickly makes itself known. She drops her gaze to Mikasa’s lips, then up again, and she sees that same need mirrored in Mikasa’s dark eyes. She's not sure how long she resists then, whether it is one heartbeat, or three, but when Mikasa’s eyes flick down too, the need takes over and she leans in.

“Wait.”

She barely manages to stop, already close enough to feel the heat of Mikasa’s breath, but she does stop, although she can’t say the same for the keening whine in her throat, because she was so close. Mikasa’s hands are immediately on her face, cradling it gently, soothingly, brushing fingers against her cheeks and the corners of her lips. That just tempts her more, but she holds herself fast.

“I’m sorry Annie,” Mikasa apologizes, her expression scrunching up into a grimace. “I'm sorry. I want to wait.”

It is a blatant lie if she says she's not disappointed, but she nods. “Okay.” Because she sees the knot in Mikasa’s eyebrows and the look of regret in Mikasa's expression, she sees how clearly Mikasa is struggling with this too with her wandering fingers and apologetic touches, and she nods again, reaching up to grasp Mikasa’s hands as she buries the need back down deep within. Because Mikasa says wait, not no. “Okay.”

Mikasa smiles small, sliding her hands down to Annie’s neck, before taking a quick breath. “And I want to tell Eren. Everything.”

She nods again, expecting this. “Okay. I’ll go with you.”

But Mikasa only shakes her head at that. “No. You go ahead with your visit home. I’ll tell him myself.”

“What? Why?” She grips Mikasa’s wrists, the thought of Mikasa facing it alone already unsettling her. “I started this whole thing. I should be there with you, to tell him that.”

Mikasa doesn't budge, shaking her head again. “No. He’ll probably feel attacked. And you were right Annie. _I_ offered you my address. That was the turning point. For him, it’s not important who you cheated with, only that you did. He’s not going to be angry at _you_ that it’s me. He’s going to be angry at _me_ that it’s me.”

She sees Mikasa’s point, at how it would be a bad idea to go to Eren together almost like it’s a confrontation. It’s also likely true that Eren would direct all his anger at Mikasa, not her. But that’s exactly why she doesn’t want to leave Mikasa to it on her own. “Can't I at least be there for you? If not directly, then maybe after?”

Mikasa smiles in silent thanks and silent apology, and Annie knows she’s been denied. “I wouldn’t come to you,” Mikasa says softly, but in direct contradiction to her words, her arms slide lower to wrap around her waist again. “Not until he forgives me.”

She bites back her reflexive urge to ask ‘What if he doesn’t?’ because that's all about her peace of mind, and that is not as important as Mikasa’s relationship with Eren. And she understands. This is something Mikasa feels she must do, before they can have anything else. And she trusts Mikasa's judgement. She will trust that just like right here, right now, Mikasa will continue to want her enough. That so long as she's here, and she doesn't change the locks, Mikasa will eventually seek her out again. And that’s fine for now. So she snakes her arms around Mikasa’s shoulders and gently cradles Mikasa’s head to her chest. “Okay. I’ll wait.” She feels Mikasa pressing into her more firmly at her reply and she sighs contentedly into Mikasa’s hair. Then as she turns her head to rest her cheek on Mikasa's, she catches sight of her kitchen and the abandoned potatoes, and a thought comes to mind. “I’ll wait, Mikasa. But tonight, will you stay?”

Predictably, Mikasa tenses in her arms. “Annie, I don’t think we should.”

She can’t say she blames Mikasa’s mind for going there, but she smacks Mikasa’s shoulder all the same. “Not that, silly. Stay for dinner. I’ll make us something.”

Mikasa pauses for a beat, and Annie can somehow sense Mikasa frowning. “You can’t cook, Annie.”

Annie rolls her eyes, smacking Mikasa’s shoulder again in retaliation for the unhelpful comment as she shoots back. “I can try. You could help me.”

“You have ingredients?”

“I have potatoes.”

Mikasa snorts, chuckling freely into her neck as her hands begin to then wander across her back affectionately. “All right. I’ll stay for dinner.”

“Good,” she says, pulling back slightly so she can look at Mikasa’s face. Mikasa is still slightly smiling from her previous mirth, and she returns it with a small smile of her own, reaching up to trace a finger along the lips that she may one day be able to kiss. No has become wait. And in time, perhaps wait will become yes. But for now, she lowers her voice so as to not come off too hopeful. “First date?”

Mikasa’s eyes widen with wonder, and then so does her smile, curling upwards in an open display of fondness. She nods, her hands moving up to grasp Annie’s, holding them in a warm, firm grip. “Okay. First date.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This is going to be a lengthy end note, which you totally need not read, unless you're interested in my ramblings about the ending. If so, be warned it's lengthy.)
> 
> The ending of this story is a foregone conclusion. I knew from the start that I wanted it to end this way. If you thought that they'd drive off into the sunset happily, then no, to me they haven't earned that. It's an undeniable fact that they both consciously did Eren wrong, and this isn't a case where Mikasa didn't know Annie was with Eren, or the relationship was loveless or abusive, or anything else that typically "justifies" cheating. This may have started as something else and spiraled out of control, but when it lasted as long as it did, neither of them can claim innocence. So in order for them to earn their happy ending, they're going to have to pay penance. Tell the truth, face the consequences, ask for forgiveness, and then once everything is out there, then maybe they could start something new. In my opinion, if they didn't do this, their relationship wouldn't stand the test of time, or it would become really unhealthy later on because the foundation their relationship is built on is a shaky one. They would become dependent on each other for support, and even the littlest poke at their foundation might threaten to unravel them. So for me personally, splitting up and starting anew is the only way to go forward for them.
> 
> That brings me to where this story ends, and how I have deliberately made it open ended. There are enough clues to indicate that they will indeed pay their penance and then get together after that, earning their happy ending. So it's a hopeful ending. And it's quite likely most people reading this fic will favor that interpretation. However, if you feel like they don't deserve to be together, then you can also headcanon that things don't work out and they never do get together. And I know that there are people reading this fic that don't actually ship Mikannie or they really hate the themes, yet they continue to read for some reason I am unable to fathom. But anyway, if you are such a person, then hey, an ending that works for you too!
> 
> Now, onto the matter that I feel some of you want to murder me for, allow me to say first that I'm really, truly sorry that they don't kiss. It feels like I've been teasing the kiss from the start, and all the dream kisses, fantasy kisses, and almost kisses sure didn't help. The thing is, I knew from the beginning that they're probably not going to kiss, however that wasn't ever set in stone. I constantly watched over their progression to see if I could make them kiss, but ultimately that opportunity never came to pass. I know it would have been gratifying to have them kiss, and I wanted it so much too. But there's just too much associated with the kiss, that it cannot happen unless the right conditions are met. Even in this chapter, although the conditions are met, had they kissed they would be repeating the same mistakes of their previous relationship. I hope you all understand where I'm coming from. I'm suffering too from them not kissing because it would have been so easy just to write in that damn kiss. I did have their relationship come full circle though, if anyone noticed Annie saying "I do, you do too" is exactly what Mikasa said to her in chapter 7. I know that won't make up for the kiss, but well, at least there's romance and feelings?
> 
> Now let's go to Eren. There's only one scene with him at the beginning, which is the break up itself. In the event anybody expected to see more of him and the fall out and what not, that wouldn't really make sense since the story follows Annie, and if Annie continued to hang around Eren after breaking up with him that would be pretty shitty. He's also not in her thoughts because he really hasn't been in her thoughts in a long while. Plus, she has already said her goodbyes to him in the previous chapter. The break up is formality, as terrible as that sounds. If the story had followed Mikasa, then there definitely would be a whole lot more Eren. 
> 
> And finally, Mikasa POV. I do plan to write a oneshot after this, which will shed some light on what Mikasa was going through along the length of this story, and also serve as something of an epilogue. So yes, there will be a little bit of what happens after this. I don't have an estimate as to when that will be posted however, but keep a look out if you're interested. (I will also finally be filling prompts)
> 
> And that's pretty much it. If you're reading this, thank you for having sat through my ramblings. I cannot thank everyone enough for all the support I received throughout the writing of this story. I hope you all have enjoyed the journey as much as I did writing it. I'm happy to have been able to share this story, and if it has made you happy, then I'm all the happier. Do share your thoughts if you'd like, I always love feedback! Until next time!


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